


Love conquers all things, so we too shall yield to love

by TeaFourTwo



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - BDSM, Billy Hargrove Being an Asshole, Billy Hargrove Needs a Hug, Child Abuse, Dom Steve Harrington, Dom/sub, Drug Withdrawal, F/M, Good Parent Jim "Chief" Hopper, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Neil Hargrove Being an Asshole, Neil Hargrove's A+ Parenting, Past Steve Harrington/Nancy Wheeler, Sub Billy Hargrove, Underage Drug Use, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-17 11:15:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29470794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeaFourTwo/pseuds/TeaFourTwo
Summary: "Power. Power is the only thing that matters in this world.” His father’s voice whispers in his ear. “And Submissive’s have none of that power, you understand me? Now take the pill—it’s for your own good, Billy, this is just how the world works."From the moment Billy Hargroves steps out of his blue Camaro with “Number of the Beast” blaring from his speakers, the entirety of the Submissive inclined population of Hawkin's High has their eye on him. He’s nothing like those sweet guys in the songs, nothing like the knight in shining armor that saves the girl in every love story. What he is though, is Dominant, strong, and hot as hell. Or at least that’s what they think.And as far as Billy's concerned, that's what they'll keep thinking.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove & Jim "Chief" Hopper, Billy Hargrove & Maxine "Max" Mayfield, Billy Hargrove & Neil Hargrove, Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington, Jonathan Byers/Nancy Wheeler, Joyce Byers/Jim "Chief" Hopper
Comments: 68
Kudos: 147





	1. Power

**Author's Note:**

> ...I have so many fic's I should be updating, but I just couldn't get this idea out of my head...oops.
> 
> So for those who don't know what D/S AU is: it's an alternate universe where Dominant/Submissive/Switch dynamics are common knowledge and part of the societal structure. It's highly based on the feel of the D/S Au's I used to read in the Sherlock Fandom. 
> 
> Unlike a lot of D/S AU's though, the BDSM is still kept mostly behind doors, at least in more religious/traditional areas, like Hawkin's Indiana :) Don't worry, I explain all in the fic. Lot's of worldbuilding as usual with me lol.

From the moment Billy Hargroves steps out of his blue Camaro with “Number of the Beast” blaring from his speakers, the entirety of the Submissive inclined population of Hawkin's High has their eye on him. He’s nothing like those sweet guys in the songs, nothing like the knight in shining armor that saves the girl in every love story. What he is though, is Dominant, strong, and hot as hell. Or at least that’s what they think.

And as far as Billy's concerned, that's what they'll keep thinking.

He hears the whispers, feels the looks of the girls dragging over his wide shoulders and narrow hips, hovering over his bare biceps. He sees the guys too, sizing him up, taking stock of his car and his cigarettes and the way he walks with confidence and authority. It's exactly the kind of attention Billy thrives on, exactly the kind of attention that’s going to earn him a reputation as the baddest Dom at Hawkin’s high. Or that’s the plan anyway.

He comes into the year late, but the school work is a breeze. He doesn't have to fake the ‘too cool for school’ boredom he has in class because the curriculum is easily months behind what Billy had taken in California. It makes it easier to sit back and relax, watch everyone else and get a lay of the land he now lives indefinitely in.

It's your standard small-town high school, he decides. There are the popular girls, all twittering Subs, or Switches pretending to be Subs, with their teased hair and glossy lips, all decked out in cute jackets and brightly colored leggings or jeans, their necks temptingly bare or wrapped in thin pretty ribbons to show they were 'steady' with someone. They don’t wear real collars out here until they’re married apparently, which is not really surprising considering the very conservative small-town atmosphere.

 _Can’t have people thinking the youths have premarital sex in Indiana. That’s a gosh dang sin._ Billy rolls his eyes at the thought. Just another lie for the books.

Then there's the popular guys, all loud posturing Dom's or, again, Switches pretending to be Dom’s. Wearing sports jackets and swaggering around after the girls asking them to parties, some of them try to look tough but it just makes them look more like the preps they are. 'Tough' in Hawkins is nothing like 'tough' in San Andreas. 

On the edges of the popular crowd are the hangers-on, the Submissive girls who aren't pretty enough to draw attention, the Dominant guys not cool enough to get said pretty Subs, the Switches that aren’t smart enough to pretend to be something that they're not.

Then on the outskirts are the weirdos. The male Subs, the female Domme’s, all the kids who don't fit into the pretty little boxes the world wants them to and who don't have the good luck or good sense to fake it until they do. 

Billy feels pity for them, of course...but when one of them catches him looking, smiles at him even, he's quick to bash his shoulder into theirs with nothing more than a sneering 'watch where you're going, nerd.’ He’s new after all, and he has a precedent to set to keep himself safe.

In high school, everyone stays to their respective places, the popular crowd, the hanger-one and the weirdos, and never the 'twain shall they meet. And Billy knows where the safest group is.

But school can only show him so much. The lines are clearer here, the dynamics obvious and controlled with no room for blurring. Everyone knows it's the parties where you'll see the real face of a town, and Billy gets his first peek the same week he arrives. Someone named 'Tommy' invites him with a promise of alegged, and Billy knows after talking to him for two minutes that he's that particular breed of sniveling teenager with a weak ass Command and a nose like a bloodhound for people whose ass he should kiss.

Unfortunately, Billy finds himself as disappointed by their parties as he is everything else in Hawkins. It's all so...boringly normal. The paired up couples are the most nauseating, making out in the corners, or practically having sex against the walls, the girls all mewling as their Dom boyfriends hold them there with their hands pinned. Worst are the couples that actually mingle into the crowd, keeping their girlfriends or on their knees next to them, taking sips of beer when they offer it but otherwise just drifting at their feet. Talk about PDA. 

Then there are the single and ready to mingle types. Dom’s trying to sweet-talk Subs into back rooms with a little hint of their Command underlying their words—a taste of what they could get, a test to see if they’re compatible. And the girls, well, they either bare their neck and follow them, all eager and compliant, or slap them and walk away to gossip with their girlfriends about how much of a douche bag so-and-so is for trying to get in her pants without even a single date! Scandalous.

Billy watches it all like a predator getting a sense of his prey’s habits. Here, it's always the Doms chasing the Subs, guys chasing the girls, even the Switches mostly adhere to the social ‘code’ by going with other Switches—with the exception seemingly being ‘King Dom’ Steve Harrington and his Switch girlfriend. ‘N’ something. He can’t remember her name. 

He looks around once more, taking stock of the drunken flirting and the teenage power plays, and finds that— _of course_ —there’s not a single male Sub or female Domme to be found at this party. 

_Wouldn’t want to be abnormal. Wouldn’t want to go against the grain._ Billy thinks with a snort.

It’d been different in Cali…at least with friends behind closed doors or even in certain parts of town. He comes to the quick conclusion that it would be tough to get away with the shit he did in Cali here—especially since it seems everyone knows everyone else's business within two days of it happening in Hawkins. He'll have to be a lot more careful than he was before. _For more than one reason._ Billy thinks as he finds his eyes drawn to Steve Harrington unwittingly.

“Billy! Billlllyyyy, my man!” Tommy says as he launches himself into his field of vision and swings an arm around his shoulders casually like they’d known each other all their lives rather than for a single week. “How are you at keg stands?”

Billy grits his teeth in a grimace of a smile, and just barely stops himself from shoving Tommy to the ground, where a worm like him belongs. “Better than anyone in this shit town, that’s for sure.”

Tommy laughs, despite the insult, because of course, he does. “Bold words! We’ll see if you eat them or not. King Steve still holds the record at 35 seconds man.”

Billy grins. “That’s it? Well, this will be easier than I thought then. Stand back and be amazed, Tommy boy.”

The crowd goes wild as he shoves his way to the keg and easily lifts himself into a handstand. He lets himself fall into the beat of the music pounding through the air, the cheers of the crowd like a constant drone in the background as he drinks and drinks and drinks…

Billy whoops as he stumbles back to his feet, beer dripping down his bare chest, head fogging in a way that’s dangerous and enticing at the same time. It’s one of the best parts about parties, that excuse to drift, something he rarely is allowed without repercussions.

“42! 42 seconds man! Holy shit, we got ourselves a new Keg King!” 

“That’s how you do it Hawkin’s! That’s how you do it!” Billy jeers loudly, laughing harshly through the haze of alcohol.

He beats the record and basks in the roar of the crowd chanting his name, even Tommy’s excited shouts aren’t quite so annoying with the fuzz of alcohol blurring Billies mind. The real issue though is when Tommy guides him into the house, and he finds himself face to face with none other than Steve fucking Harrington. King Steve, the Top Dom of Hawkin’s High. His heart pounds, head a fog. He isn't sure what his face is doing, but he hopes it's something suitably arrogant.

“We’ve got a new Keg King Harrington, how’s it feel?” Tommy says as he practically shoves Billy at Steve. The look on Tommy’s face makes Billy’s stomach roll--like a kid shoving his new toy in everyone’s face in the hopes they’ll be jealous—and clearly, Steve feels the same way from the way his jaw clenches.

“Ugh.” The girl at his side groans, turning away with an eye roll. “That’s my queue to go.”

“Nancy—hey—” Steve says as he reaches for her arm, only for her to squirm just out of reach.

Billy grins, something sharp and strange lighting in his chest at the sight of the obvious tension between him and his pretty princess of a girlfriend. 

“Trouble in paradise, amigo?” Billy says as she walks away without a backward glance. Steve glares at him, his gaze switching between him and the retreating form of his girlfriend for a moment, before running after her with a quick middle finger thrown over his shoulder. It's disappointingly dismissive.

“Like a whipped dog.” Tommy cackles, “You’d never know he was a Dom when he’s around her, huh? It’s pathetic.”

“Yeah,” Billy says without looking away from Steve’s stupid poof of hair sticking out above the rest of the crowd. “Pathetic.”

—

“Welcome, seniors…to your first day of Senior Biology.” Mrs. Wilkinson claps to a silent room as if what she’s just said is anything worth celebrating. “Our first segment of this class will be spent talking about the different sections of the brain and their importance. Please open your textbooks to…”

 _Kill me now._ Billy thinks as the annoyingly nasally voice of Mrs. Wilkinson drones on in the background. He twirls his pencil around his thumb, chews his gum as loud as he can, and stares a hole into the back of Steve Harrington’s head. King Steve, Hawkin’s Top Dom, as everyone loved telling him, and yet Billy had yet to see anything but a bore who’d retired from the party life for a fucking Switch of all things.

“Here we see a diagram of the parts of the brain—the Cerebrum, the Cerebellum, and the brainstem. Within the Cerebrum you can see four lobes—frontal, parietal, occipital, and temporal...”

Steve’s writing away in front of him, scribbling and scribbling like a good little student. Billy wants to chuck his pencil at his head just so he’ll turn around and glare at him, acknowledge him as the rival he is. He’s already taken his Keg King title at last weeks party...but even then, when he’d sauntered up to him and tried rubbing his nose in it, Steve had hardly seemed to care, more focused on Nancy Wheeler’s pert ass as she strode away from him than Billy’s in-your-face swagger.

“For today, we will focus on the temporal lobe, for that is where we find the Hypothalamus, the Pituitary gland, and the most important of all—the Potencium.” The class perks up at the word, an excited murmur moving like a wave across the classroom, but it only causes Billy to startle enough that his pencil tumbles right out of his fingers.

“Yes, yes, I’m sure you’ve all heard of it before.” The teacher says with a sigh and Billy watches as the pencil rolls out of his reach and up beside Steve’s desk, who stops his scribbling when it hits his foot.

“Can anyone tell me what they know about it?” Mrs. Wilkinson blathers on, “Our new student, Mr. Hargrove maybe?”

Goddamn it.

Billy looks up through his lashes at Mrs. Wilkinson, all instant charm and lazy drawl. “I think…that’s the part that has a lot to do with screwing someone’s brains out.”

A rush of hushed laughter is quickly stifled by Mrs. Wilkinsons' harsh glare. She looks utterly unimpressed by Billy’s grin. “How…eloquent, Mr. Hargroves. And also rather incorrect.”

She turns to walk back up to the front of the classroom, switching the slide on the projector. That's when Steve turns around and holds his pencil out to him, not meeting his eyes, and Billy wants to take the thing from his hand and throw it back on the floor just so he’ll fucking glare at him at least.

“The Potencium is directly in front of the Hypothalamus and the Pituitary gland, as you can see here.” Mrs. Wilkinson says, pointing at the large circled area on the projected diagram. “Despite what Mr. Hargrove believes, the Potencium does not have anything to do with…bedroom activities. It is actually the Hypothalamus and the Pituitary gland that work together to control behaviors like thirst, hunger and...sexual desire, among other things.”

Billy rolls his eyes as he snatches the pencil from Steve’s hand, and his fingertips burn where they’d touched him. As soon as Steve turns back towards the front, he’s rolling up a wad of paper to throw in his ridiculous hair.

“The Potencium, however, is involved in something much more _interesting_ than reproductive impulses—it receives and controls the release of a very _unique_ signal…one which seemingly only humans can perceive and create, although there have been some studies involving gorilla’s that suggest otherwise. Mandatum is of course the technical term for signal, but most of you will only know it as a person’s ‘Command.’”

Billy throws another wad of paper. He’s up to four now, and Steve still hasn’t noticed. He’s hardly listening to the teacher, but she babbles on in the background regardless.

“Here is a close up of the Potencium, which we can see is split into two sections—a receiver area and transmitter area. While we all have the ability to _receive_ Commands, with varying degrees of sensitivity, generally only Dominants and Switches can _transmit_ them. Submissive's have a transmitter area, but generally, it is only used for resisting Commands, rather than transmitting them themselves.” The teacher delivers the basic information in a bland and rote manner, almost as if she suspects most of the class already knows the information she’s giving them. 

Which, who knows in this podunk town whether that’s a fair assumption to make. Looking at Tommy, Billy wouldn’t be surprised if some of them still don’t know where babies come from. Billy does, of course, know of all of this. He’s known all of it since he was thirteen and went through California State's Sex Ed.

“Now, does anyone know the reason _why_ Submissives’ cannot transmit Command’s? No? No one? Well, right here, as you all can see, is a Submissive’s brain compared to a Dominant’s brain.” Mrs. Wilkinson says as she pulls up a new diagram slide. “You can clearly see that the Submissive’s Potencium has a much larger receiver area, right _here,_ and a much smaller transmitter area, here. This results in an increased sensitivity to Commands, as well as the ability to enter something called Subspace—a place some Switches can fall into as well, though not as easily.” 

Mrs. Wilkinson continues, "Scientists have theorized that Subspace is an evolutionary tactic to avoid overstimulation due to their increased sensitivity, but others…well, there are varying opinions in the community.”

“Yeah, like the opinion it’s for screwing each other’s brains out?” Billy mumbles quietly, though apparently not quietly enough as a wave of laughter sweeps the room.

“Mr. Hargrove, if you would _please_ contain your comments to yourself?” The teacher grits out, and Billy gives her a snarky apology in response—just on the side of respectful of course, wouldn’t want a trip to the disciplinary office or a call to his dad.

Steve’s hand comes up, finally, and runs through his hair absently. Billy watches with a little smirk as his hand freezes, coming into contact with the several tiny pieces of paper he’d managed to land in it throughout the class. It’s only then that Steve turns around to look Billy in the eye, finally glaring at him. They don't even hold half the fire Billy wishes they did.

“Now, let’s move onto why exactly humans have a Potencium. This part of the brain's ability to actively influence other human's behavior, specifically to influence them to obey, is a fascinating social display of evolution. The fact that many use their Command for…sexual purposes is another matter entirely.”

Billy, still holding Steve’s glaring eyes, winks as the teacher says ‘sexual.’ It gets him a disgusted look before the other teen is throwing the wads of paper on the floor and turning around. There are still two balls stuck in his hair and Billy grins, hoping they stay there all day.

He can hardly concentrate on what Mrs. Wilkonson is saying now, something about how exactly their hormones, pheromones and brain work together to create the ability to Command and blah blah blah. All he really wants to focus on is trying to annoy Steve into looking over his shoulder at him again. Billy has been having a rough day, a rough week really, and annoying Steve Harrington always seems to make it a little better. Something about how it makes him feel a little more in control, a little more sure of his place in this school…it settles him. He’s here to uproot the King, he’s here to take his title...and there’s nothing Steve can do about it.

The teacher is wrapping things up, finally, the slides are coming to an end, the students finally putting down their pens. Then comes the worst and best news he’s heard all-day—

“So, with the remaining time, I want you to look over this handout. I’d like a short essay on why you think humanity evolved into Dominant’s, Submissives and Switches. You’ll be pairing up for this project…”

Billy feels a simultaneous sinking and fluttering in his stomach because he already knows what her next words will be before she even says them.

“…alphabetically, as usual. Please take the last fifteen minutes to speak about the essay—due tomorrow.”

Billy doesn’t even need to wait for her to name off their teams. He already knows who he’ll be paired up with. Harrington. There’s plenty of reasons for Billy to hate being a Hargrove, but the first three letters of the name are not one of them it seems. Now he has an _excuse_ to openly annoy Steve Harrington for the rest of class.

“Guess it’s just you and me, Harrington,” Billy says, and Steve just looks to the right of his eyes and shrugs. “You gonna be able to handle talking to me for more than five minutes without pissing your pants?”

Steve sighs, shaking his head. “Nice, Hargrove. Only two seconds in and you’re already being an asshole. You really excel at that, don’t you?”

Billy shrugs and just puts his foot upon the desk next to him and cocks a brow. “Maybe. Doesn't change the fact you’re now on a team with this ‘asshole.’”

“Yeah, for one assignment. I think I’ll survive, but thanks for your concern I guess.” Steve sighs, long and hard and with his head tilted up to the ceiling as if he’s waiting for an angel to come down and save him. “All right. Let’s get this over with then. What’s our angle?”

Billy twirls his pencil nonchalantly. “Power, obviously. It’s the only real answer, isn’t it? Survival of the fittest, there can only be one winner blah blah blah—evolution.”

“Of course that would be your answer,” Steve says with a roll of his eyes. He’s slouching in his chair, nonchalant and always so damn cool-headed that it makes Billy twitchy to rile him up, or at the very least make him admit Billy is right.

_The world revolves around power, always has, always will._

“Look, it says right here all ‘historical evidence’ points to the Potencium only showing up in human brains as a response to the change from hunter-gatherer to agricultural. And what else only showed up after humans went all farming good, hunting bad? Social power structures. Rich and poor, land owners and slaves, kings and lords. Etcetera, etcetera...” Billy continues, and see’s Steve’s eyebrows go up in surprise as he stares at him in awkward silence. Billy snorts, “What, did you think I couldn’t read?”

“No.” Steve huffs out, “Just surprised you’re actually taking something seriously for once.”

Billy rolls his eyes, “You wanna do it alone? Because I’m one hundred percent willing to let you do all the work, Harrington.”

Steve glares at him a little before saying, “What does the agricultural revolution have to do with this?”

“Well...sure now we’ve got food stamps and welfare and shit—but back then...back then the only way to eat was to be able to protect your farm, your land. And if you couldn’t be? Well, then you needed to be protected by whoever could. It just makes sense, Harrington, that we’d develop a way to dominate socially with weird pheromone signals or whatever, the same way we have physically with war and killing things.”

“If that’s the case why aren’t we all just Dominants then? Why did some people evolve to be Submissives? Or Switches?” 

Billy scoffs, “Same reason why we aren’t all men. Someone’s gotta be the girl, be the Sub, stay home, get fucked, watch the kids, do the dirty work. And Switches…well who the fuck knows, maybe they’re just opportunists—waiting to see which side will be most beneficial for them before they pick one. Maybe they're just the leftovers who couldn't make the cut as Dom's.”

“That is so misogynistic and backward I don’t even know where to start. Not to mention your views on Switches are fucked up.” Steve says with a disgusted look. “Also—not all Submissive’s are women y'know.”

“I know,” Billy says a little too severely, frowning. Of course, he knows, he knows better than anyone really. His voice is perhaps a bit too bitter when he continues talking. “Man or woman, it doesn’t change the fact it’s what Submissive’s evolved to do—follow, obey, nurture…make the Dominant happy and relaxed right? Whether they're fucking them or just doing their paperwork is a matter of gender—but they both get the same thing in return…protection. So I repeat—power. The end."

“You make it sound like Subs have _no_ power—but they do. They have just as much, even.” Steve says and Billy laughs at him. Steve rolls his eyes. “Of course, how _surprising_ that you don’t agree."

“Jesus, you hear yourself? If I wasn’t looking at your ugly mug while you said it I’d think I’d just heard a girl talking.” Billy stops laughing and watches Steve’s reddening face. “If Subs have just as much power...then why do they have to be registered under a Dom their whole lives?”

“Well, I mean...technically they don’t, this isn’t the 50’s anymore—“

“Riiight, but the mandatory mental health screenings every six months if they don’t mean nothing right? And you really think a Sub is going to get _any_ job if they don’t have a Dom? You’re fucking naive Harrington.”

Steve looks half pissed, half confused as he shakes his head, but he obviously doesn’t have a good counter-argument. Billy smirks at him.

“Tommy is right, that Wheeler chick really does have you pussy whipped doesn’t she?”

“Jesus,” Steve says with a wrinkle of his nose, “I honestly don’t understand how you get _any_ girl to go out with you, _especially_ if she’s a Sub. Could you be any more of a caveman?”

Billy curls his tongue across his upper teeth as he stretches out his legs, catching the eye of a staring girl and winks to make a point. He looks back to Steve as she giggles and ducks her head, raising an eyebrow at him. “I think I could say the same for you, _King Steve_. How the hell you ever had this school wrapped around your pathetic little finger escapes me. I honestly don’t think you could send a Sub down if their life depended on it.”

“Have you wrote down our fucking answer yet?” Steve says through clenched teeth, for once actually matching the heat of Billy’s stare. “Bell’s about to ring and I want to hand this in before we leave—“

“What’s the rush, we have until next class to finish this—“

“Exactly, and I don’t want to spend a second of that time with you, asshole. I don’t even care anymore, just—just hurry up and _write it down_ , fuck.” Steve practically growls, and it’s accompanied by the undeniable feeling of his Command pushing at him, telling him to do it, to obey. It makes Billy flinch backward in his chair, a shot of heat running down his spine. It’s strong, a Command meant for another Dom, unsuppressed, sharp with anger. He’s so surprised he almost doesn’t remember that, as a Dom himself, he’s expected to push back rather than mindlessly obey it.

But he does remember, at the last moment, as he says back, “ _You_ fucking write it down, _princess.”_

He pushes as much Command as he can manage into it, tries to match the force of Steve’s dominance with his own. He overshoots by a mile of course because like usual he’s either all or nothing and everyone in the class startles at the feel of it and Billy hears even the teacher give a startled gasp. Her eyes look up and pin him down, and he nearly swears.

“Fuck, calm _down,_ Hargrove. What’s the matter with you?” Steve hisses, even as he starts writing down their assignment, having lost the battle of wills. 

“You pushed first, Harrington, don’t play dumb.” Billy thinks he says. He can feel something dangerous rising up in him, crouching at the edges of his vision, poking white spots in his vision, and tightening his chest. 

“ _By_ _accident_ , yeah, and it was barely a push at all! If mine was a nudge, you fucking _gut punched me._ Get over yourself.” 

“Mr. Hargrove, that is _not_ appropriate in this classroom.” Mrs. Wilkinson says as she suddenly appears at his side. “ _Out. Now!_ Principal's office.”

Billy stands instantly, chair skidding across the floor unbearably loud. It falls onto its back but Billy doesn’t bother picking it up, just makes a bee-line for the door. She’d put a hefty Command behind her words, and as a teacher Billy couldn’t push back unless he wanted to get in deep shit, but technically her Command had only been to leave, not to go to the principals' office.

And so he leaves and forces his feet to go the opposite direction from the principal's office, the sickly feeling of indirectly disobeying making his skin crawl and his throat itch. But he pushes through, slamming his shoulder past the people who rapidly fill the halls as the bell rings, unsure of where he’s going but knowing he just _has_ to keep moving or he’s going to topple to the ground.

He blinks and suddenly he’s outside.

The air is cool, too cool for his half-open shirt and cutoff sleeves, and Billy has no idea how he got there. It’s not really alarming though at this point. Billy is used to blackouts. The biting chill of the air helps him clear his head, helps him ground himself in reality just as much as his smokes usually do. Today his Red’s aren’t doing much, but they’re better than nothing and so he lights up his second one with shaking fingers.

Fucking Steve Harrington. _King Steve_ , the number one Dom of Hawkin’s High…he can hear Tommy's annoying voice in his head, spouting off information to him after he’d beat Steve’s Keg record, trying to gain the favor of the new Top Dom like the sniveling leach he is.

_“He’s presented as a Dom when he was, I don’t know, 12 I think? Pretty early I guess. As long as I’ve known him I’ve always thought he would be one…everyone knew it really. Think they were more surprised when I presented as one too, really.”_

_“Huh,” Billy says and doesn’t voice that he severely doubts Tommy when he says he’s a Dom. Sure he’d felt the guy's Command—not directed at him of course, he wouldn’t dare—but it was weak as hell, hardly even worth sneezing at. Billy thinks he’s more than likely a Switch, but obviously, he can’t say that, not without drawing offense from the guy, and that’s not what he’s trying to do tonight._

_He pours Tommy another drink and pushes it into his hands, even though the guy’s already completely sloshed and ready to tell him anything. “You there when he…?”_

_“The first time he used his Command? Oh yeah, man...it was over something so stupid…I think I took some tape he loved or something, and he was so pissed. He looked at me and he said ‘give it the fuck back’ and usually I’d just tell him to fuck off right?” Tommy’s face heats and there’s a_ _distant look in his eyes._

_"But this time, fuck, I’m a Dom too but that shit bowled me over—couldn’t even say a thing, just handed it back without a word.”_

Billy scoffs under his breath. Yeah, 'Dominant' his ass. Tommy was a fucking Switch and that was all there was to it. He’d practically drooled over a memory of Harrington’s Command. Still, better a Switch than a Sub. At least they could push back.

A pulse of heat hits Billy in the gut though as he recalls the feel of Harrington’s Command himself, just minutes ago in the classroom. It’s not allowed really...against school policy for students to do it on the grounds—teachers are allowed of course, because how else could they keep control of a whole classroom of rowdy teenagers? As long as it wasn’t used to Command them to do anything illegal or sexual in nature, of course.

That didn’t stop anyone though, not in high school and not in real life. A bunch of horny power-hungry teenagers would turn into a bunch of horny power-hungry office workers, ready to exert their Command over others to get what they wanted all the while lying to themselves that they were 'pulling themselves up by their bootstraps.’ Bullshit. As if a Sub would have half the chance a Dom would.

“Get it together, man,” Billy murmurs as he rubs his eyes and stubs his cigarette out. Steve throws around his Command thoughtlessly, like it comes so easy to him that he hardly even notices when he uses it. 

Billy wonders what it would feel like for his Command to come so easily to him. Then he can’t help but wonder what it would feel like for that Command to be aimed at him in a different way, not like what one would aim at another Dom but at a—fuck. _Nope, no, do not go there, Billy, not right here in the middle of the day under the fucking bleachers._

“Shit.” His eyes burn—from the smoke, he tells himself, but knows it’s a lie. The edge of a cliff looms sharply in front of Billy, promising absolution should he jump. _Subspace_ , he thinks as he blinks rapidly with panic fuelled realization. 

Even just thinking of it has Billy craving it. That place where the perfect cocktail of chemicals and endorphins all work together and make everything else in the world fall away…that place of _peace, warmth, safety, comfort, nothingness._ Since moving to Hawkins it’s been more of a struggle than usual to not want it...absence makes the heart grow fonder and all that. Only he can’t afford to risk asking the wrong person to help him reach it, can’t afford to go off the pills for so long. Not here. Not since California and John and Max’s snitching, not with Neil watching him so closely.

It’s a lie anyway, that place, the stories about it...it’s not some perfect, wonderful place, and it only lasts so long. Sure, the fall can be nice, but no matter how high a peak you start from, eventually, you have to reach the bottom. The splat at the end of the jump, the pain at the end of the pleasure, with all its spikes and sharp edges and darkness. 

At least that’s how it is for Billy...because there’s never been anyone to catch him when he falls, no one to drag him back up over the ledge...and anyway he shouldn’t even _want_ it, that place—he’s a Dom, not a Sub, a Dominant through and through—because he has to be, because that’s how the world works, and that’s how things have to be for him to survive. 

_"Power. Power is the only thing that matters in this world.”_ His father’s voice whispers in his ear. _“And Submissive’s have none of that power, you understand me? Now take the pill—it’s for your own good, Billy, this is just how the world works."_

He thrusts his hand into his pocket, rolling around the small round pill that sits in the lining. The feel of it is sweet relief, an aching craving that makes his muscles tense and his heart beat faster. Billy hadn’t intended on taking two today, is really only supposed to take one, but it seems he’ll have to. It’s the only thing that can keep him from dropping onto those spikes, and that’s more important than the migraine taking two will give him. He doesn’t exactly like the feeling of his brain trying to burst out of his skull, but he’ll take it over the drop any day.

The pill is bitter on his tongue, but the cliff stops looming within moments, and the tears dry in his eyes. Only anger is left in its place, and he welcomes it. Before he knows it he’s blinking his eyes open in his own bed, everything after leaving the bleacher a blank fuzzy nothing in his brain. Another blackout.

 _It’s fine. Nothing important probably happened anyway._ He tells himself as he stares blankly at the ceiling, _just another boring day in Hawkins, Indiana._


	2. Thinking of You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting a bit early because it's a shorter chapter! It got too long so I split it in two. The next one will be maybe Monday or Tuesday?
> 
> Thanks for the great response though everyone! Your comments and kudos give me warm tinglies of happiness. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Steve Harrington has always had a very clear idea of who he is…until he meets Nancy Wheeler. 

He’d never thought she’d be his type. Thought she was a bit of a priss at first really…but then she’d gotten under his skin, and he’d gotten under hers, got to see and know all the pieces of her that she hid from the world. Nancy Wheeler was a dichotomy of hard and soft, fierce and gentle, dominant and submissive. Made sense really, since she realized not long into their relationship that she was a Switch. Or perhaps she’d always known, just said she was a Sub before because that was the easy thing, the normal thing, the thing her mother told her to be. 

Still, Steve had been fine with it when she’d told him she thought she was a Switch, had supported her when she came out to her parents, and even welcomed her ability to push back—he’d liked the challenge of it, liked the look of her pretty eyes burning with defiance as she faced down horrors that made him practically piss his pants, liked that she didn’t bare her neck for just anyone...but that she wanted to, for him. 

Of course, they’d had a rough start, he’ll admit, what with him being a self-absorbed asshole at the time. His friends had all been against it, saying Dom’s like him shouldn’t go with girls like her who weren’t even ‘proper Subs’ but he’d never doubted once that Nancy Wheeler was the one for him. 

He loved her. He loved how she could look at him with fire in her eyes one minute and then submit so prettily for him the next. He loved the chase too, because Nancy liked to make it hard for him to push her under, liked to fight it a little before she gave over the reigns…but even outside of the sexual aspect of their relationship, she was just…perfect. Before, everything had always been for appearances, for his friends, for his parents. She made him better, made him want to be the best, for her yes, but also for himself.

Steve had always been sure of who he was, King Steve, the Keg Stand Champion, Hawkins’ Top Dom…but Nancy made him want to be something more than all that, or perhaps less—she just made him want to be Steve. Nancy made him second guess who he was, made him realize the King Steve persona wasn’t really him.

Then, when he’d looked in her window that night and seen that damning scene between her and Jonathan, his hand on the back of her neck like any good Dom would do for his Sub when she was distressed, Jonathan who was a Switch just like her, who always seemed to understand Nancy in a way Steve didn’t, well it…it hadn’t been pretty what he’d felt that night, and it hadn’t been pretty what he’d done after either. He still regretted what he’d done, to both her and Jonathan...even now that things were good between them all. 

That was in the past though, the graffiti long washed away, the camera rebought and gifted, apologies given and accepted, demodogs killed and secrets shared…everything had been good, great, perfect even.

Or so he’d thought.

_ Bullshit. _ Nancy’s drunken slurred voice echoed in his head,  _ You’re Bullshit. _

Steve sighs as he stares at the display of flowers in front of him, hands jittery as he thought of the look on her face as he’d asked her if she loved him, thought of Jonathan’s hand on the back of her neck so long ago. He hadn’t needed her to answer in the end. Her silence had been enough. 

He honestly doesn’t know what to think anymore, what to do. Had he done something wrong? Had he been a bad Dom? Could she not handle never having ‘a turn at the wheel’ so to speak? Was she just…tired of him?

“Goddamn, Harrington, just grow a pair and pick one already.”

Steve startles at the voice, instinctively pushing back at the weak press of Command with his own until it breaks into nothing, compulsion brushed aside like a fly. He only just barely holds back the secondary instinct to lash out at whoever had surprised him with his fists too. 

He’s maybe been having some issues with people coming up behind him without him noticing since…well, since everything. He’s working on it. 

Although seeing that the person behind him is Billy Hargrove, maybe he shouldn’t have held himself back.

“Jesus, what’s got your panties in a bunch?” Billy says, seemingly noticing how high-strung Steve is. “Have anything to do with those rumors that Wheeler dumped your ass at the Halloween party?”

“Fuck off, Hargrove. I’m not in the mood.” Steve groans out, not even deeming him worth the effort of pushing a Command into his voice. He finally picks one of the bouquets—red roses, classic, every girl’s favorite. Nancy wasn’t every girl though, and Steve stares at the roses for a second in hesitation before switching to some babies breath ridden bouquet of carnations.

“Oh, I see, you’re in a  _ mood _ huh? I’ll let you get back your  _ flowers _ then, Harrington. Wouldn’t want to bother you while you’re on your period.” Billy rolls his eyes he passes Steve, bumping his shoulder purposefully. Steve snaps then, already pissed off and off-balance from the shit going on with Nancy, and his hand comes up and pushes at Billy’s shoulder hard enough he stumbles a few steps backward. 

It’s like the Halloween party all over again—Billy striding up through the crowds of people towards him, his gaze razor-sharp and full of fire and all of it focused on Steve. For some reason…he doesn’t hate that look on his face. Actually savors how much it obviously annoys Billy when Steve just stares back all calm, posture loose and unbothered rather than full of matching swagger.

“You itching to start something Harrington?” Billy murmurs, getting up all close with his shoulders set back and hands twitching at his sides. His hair is a mess of wild curls and his jaw is jutting out almost amusingly far. 

Steve is silent a moment, before suddenly huffing out a laugh, his earlier anger evaporating into amusement as he watches the other teen.  _ He looks ridiculous. This guy is every asshole Dom I’ve ever seen in a movie put into one bag, _ Steve thinks, grin fading,  _ God, I really hope I didn’t look that stupid last year. _

The thought is as embarrassing as it is validating…all this shit with Nancy had put him off his game, made him unsure and wrong-footed and insecure but—seeing Billy somehow made him feel a little better. It made him realize that Nancy or no Nancy, he really had no interest in being King Steve ever again. He may have thought he gave all that up for her but...

He wasn’t that guy anymore, wasn’t the obnoxious rich kid who threw around his Dominance and his money and his Commands to get whatever he wanted…and he never would be again, not because of Nancy but rather because he just didn’t want to be. He chuckles again at the irony.

“What’s so funny, Harrington—“ Billy starts, but Steve just shakes his head and moves over to the cashier with his flowers before he can finish whatever pithy insult he’d come up with. 

“Go get your rocks off fighting someone else, Hargrove.” He says, tired and just  _ done _ with this whole day. He isn’t surprised when Billy follows him out onto the street, is instead a little amused by it. He looks like a bristly stray cat, following at a distance with his hair raised on end, trying to look like he’s not interested but never far behind. 

Thankfully his car isn’t far, and he gets into it before Billy can try and take a swing at him or some other caveman shit. He gives him a friendly little wave as he squeals away in his Beemer, and Steve can’t help but actually snort at the sheer annoyance on Billy’s face as he does it. 

For the first time all week Steve actually finds himself not thinking about Nancy…but then of course he’s pulling up to the Wheeler’s house with flowers in his hand and an apology on his lips and Nancy’s smile, her eyes, her sweet face slides back into his head, filling up whatever small space Billy had briefly conquered. 

He doesn’t think about Billy again until over 24 hours later, after one missing Dart turned Demodog, a battle in a junkyard, a death, and an interrogation. 

And by that point…Billy Hargrove is the last person he wants to think about.

  
  


—

  
  


Billy is not having the best week, that much is clear. His skin feels too tight and sensitive under his clothes, there's a constant dull ache at the base of his skull and he can’t seem to get fucking Steve Harrington out of his mind since seeing him the other day. 

The guy just...knows how to get under Billy’s skin, namely by not letting Billy get under  _ his  _ skin. It’s infuriating.

So, yeah. Billy isn't having the best week…but he’s confident tonight’s date is going to make it a little better.

Her name is Tammy Thompson, and she is a foxy,  _ daring _ little thing he met through Tommy at the Halloween party. She'd been a great distraction from staring at Steve Harrington all night, at the very least, despite the annoyingly similar name to the weasel, and she is an absolute catch.

She can’t be more than five foot two, but her personality fills what space her height doesn’t. She's objectively attractive, will undoubtedly get all the boys talking in the locker room when Billy spills that he’s slept with her, but that isn’t what made him ask her out..what really drew him to her is her  _ fire _ . How she looked at him like she could eat him alive and make him thank her for it.

She told him teasingly that she liked to date around but wasn’t ‘fast’, not that Billy would give a fuck if she were, and that she wasn’t the sort of girl to be shy. She says she's a Switch but she seems like one of the few exceptions to the rule to not to have lost much popularity over it, probably because of said looks and her connection as Carol's cousin. 

Something about her sheer presence though, the way she'd  _ looked _ at him, made Billy think there’s more to the story of Tammy’s designation though, a sort of guardedness that only those used to hiding something themselves would recognize. There's still a stigma against female Domme’s after all, especially in a small conservative little town like Hawkins. Not as much of a stigma as male Sub’s, but still.

He can hear his dad’s voice in his head, calling male Dominant’s  _ ‘respectable, strong, leaders’ _ …but a female Dominant? Well, they’re  _ ‘nagging, bitchy, self-important.’  _ Sometimes he’d even insist  _ ‘they’re all dyke’s,’  _ which is obviously not true from Billy’s own experience. So, yes, Billy understands why Tammy would say she's a Switch, even if she’s not. It’s for the same reason Billy sleeps with anything in a skirt but avoids commitments and scenes like the plague. 

It’s been necessary sometimes to scene with a Sub here and there for appearance's sake, and Billy always  _ dreads _ it, because it means more than one little red pill a day and all the terrible side effects that come with that. Headaches, nausea, blackouts, crazy-ass mood swings...

But that’s beside the point because Tammy is  _ clearly _ not a Sub and even if she was, she’s not looking for a scene just some good non-designational no strings attached fun. 

Of course, Billy knows he can't let her do what he really wants her to do…knows they both have roles to play and reputations to keep. But the thrill of the thought that she might toe the line, maybe tell him what to do or hold him down a bit or—

Well. It’s just enough to make him actually look forward to this date, to primp a little more than usual, fuss with his hair until it’s perfect, and smirk at his ass in the mirror as he blares his favorite music. He takes one look at the red pill sitting on his shelf before putting it back in its bottle. He wants to go into this without it, wants to avoid making his headache worse than it already does. 

He thinks,  _ one night won’t make a difference, just this once. _ _ Just a little stress relief. _

After all, he needs to take breaks every once in a while if he doesn’t want to be passing out in class every other day. Billy has a feeling he’d be dead by now if he took the dose his dad always tells him to take.

“Billy!” A voice calls, no,  _ shouts _ over the pounding on his door. “Billy, open this door!”

Billy startles and swears, recognizing his father's 'Mad As Hell’ voice. He was almost done, just about ready to go, but as soon as he opens that door...well, what little positivity he’d managed to wrangle into his mood comes crashing down around him, courtesy of one very pissed off Neil and one very missing stepsister.

Max is gone, her window open, and of  _ fucking course _ it’s Billy’s fault somehow because he was 'supposed to be watching’ the bitch, like some fucking full-time babysitter. And Billy…Billy is having a bad week goddamnit, so he thinks he can be excused if he’s a little testy. 

The usual back and forth happens—Billy tries to calm the situation down, Neil throws it back at him with harsh words and harsher pushes of Command and showy dominance. Sometimes Neil likes it when he pushes back at him, will hit a little softer and talk a little less sharp if Billy plants his feet and looks him in the eye—because it is the opposite of Submission, because it’s what a ‘real man’ should do in Neil’s eyes. 

But today is not one of those days. Today it just makes Neil angrier when Billy talks back, and it only takes one too many back talks, just a single utterance of,  _ “She’s not my sister!”  _ before the bookshelf is suddenly cutting harshly into his back, his cheeks stinging and his head spinning.

“What did we talk about, Billy.  _ You don’t say that. _ ” Neil grits out into the tense inches between them, his dominance suddenly filling the room like water, suffocating and heavy. Billy hears Susan gasp in the background, see’s her go to her knees out of the corner of his eye even, undoubtedly feeling Neil’s Command even though it isn’t directed at her. Billy keeps his head up and his knees locked out of sheer stubbornness.

“What. Did. We. Talk. About. Billy.”

“Respect.” Billy croaks out, the words rote and common on his tongue. “And responsibility.”

“That’s right,” Neil says, with a deadly softness. “A good Dom, a good  _ man _ is responsible and respectable. And right now? Right now you are not showing either of those qualities are you,  _ son _ ?”

Billy stays quiet, unmoving, not even breathing. He can feel the pulse of his father’s domineering Command pushing against him, telling him to obey, to kneel, and it makes him shake with  _ anger.  _

“Now you’re going to call whatever... _ whore _ you were going to see tonight, Billy, and you’re going to cancel your date.” Neil grits out. “And then you're going to go and find your sister, like a good brother, like a responsible  _ Dom, _ isn’t that right Billy?”

Billy doesn’t dare breathe enough to do anything but whispers the words out. “Yes sir.”

“What was that, son?” Neil says, getting almost impossibly closer. His hand is digging hard into his chin and it makes Billy grit his teeth. “I couldn’t quite hear you.”

“Yes. Sir.” Billy repeats, louder and clearer. He thanks God in that moment that his voice doesn’t crack.

Neil nods as if satisfied, but his eyes hold a warning and his voice is hard. 

_ “Find Max.” _ He says, Command like a sledgehammer right into Billy’s stomach, and then  _ finally _ he turns and leaves him in peace.

The room is quiet then, the air sucked out with Neil’s departure. Billy lets one tear fall down his cheek and grips the shelf behind him so his knees don’t collapse, only letting go once he’s sure his legs can support him. 

He realizes then that he’d been stupid to even dream about taking a risk with Tammy, to even hope for one good night, because it always ends like this doesn’t it? He hates Hawkins, but more than anything he hates Max for making them come here in the first place.

Billy takes out the bottle he’d put away earlier, thumbing out a single red pill and shoving it in his mouth before he can think about it too much. He swallows it down and within moments his thoughts are settling and his chest is loosening, even as his head starts to pound.

He doesn’t remember the drive over to the Sinclair’s or his talk with the kids' parents, doesn’t remember flirting his way into Mrs. Wheeler’s fantasies and confidences, doesn’t remember getting the address of the ‘designated hangout’ that is the Byers household from her. But as soon as he pulls up to the small secluded house and sees fucking  _ Steve Harrington _ standing there, his brain blinks back on like a light switch. He’s glaring at him like some fucking guard dog, and Billy has to take a moment to look around and remind himself why he’s here. 

He’s looking for Max. He has to find Max, has to get her home, Neil told him he has to find her. 

How he got here, that black hole that’s made its place in his head, it isn’t important. All that’s important is that he finds Max and gets her home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, poor Billy...things will get worse for you before they get better, unfortunately. But they will get better!
> 
> Also, anyone have a guess where his connection to Tammy will go? ;)
> 
> Let me know what you think guys :)


	3. The Fight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So excited for this chapter, the big fight woop woop! Hope you guys like it :)

“Am I dreaming or is that you Harrington?” The obnoxious sound of Billy Hargrove’s voice grates at Steve’s last nerve, but he keeps his posture relaxed, his eyes on Billy, and doesn’t show an ounce of weakness.

“Yeah, it’s me, don’t cream your pants.” He replies as he meets Billy halfway. They both stop and size each other up, Billy lighting a cigarette while Steve just watches him, hoping he’s projecting  _ calm _ and  _ cool _ . 

Steve watches Billy, looks into his eyes and feels...unnerved.

It’s like looking into a dark pit of nothingness and tightly leashed anger.

“Are you high?” He asks him, and Billy’s answering smile is all teeth, close to unhinged.

“Oh, I wish I was, Harrington. I wish I was.” Billy says, and his smile fades into something mean and angry. “At least then this fucking ridiculous joke of a situation might be a little  _ funny.” _

They talk, they posture, they push at each other's buttons—when Steve asks why Billy seems to think his sisters here though the other teen gets...strangely confused. It makes Steve even wearier to let Max leave, so he lies and tells Billy his sister isn’t there. Because right now the safest place for her  _ is  _ at the Byers, and his instincts aren’t going to let any of those kids go anywhere he doesn’t think is safe…not after the night, they’ve had. 

He wouldn’t be able to call himself a Dom, a man even, if he let any of them get hurt. 

"Y'know, this whole...situation." Billy starts, taking a long draw of his cigarette with twitchy fast-moving hands. "It's givin' me the heebee jeebies."

"Oh yeah?" Steve says calmly, "Why is that?"

"Well. My thirteen-year-old sister goes missing all day. And then I find her with you? In a strangers house?" Billy moves closer, and Steve feels a sliver of something dark rise up in him at the advance of a predator. "...and then you lie to me about it?"

"Man, were you dropped too much as a child or what?" Steve laughs it off, trying to remind himself to _deescalate_ the situation. "I don't know what you don't understand about what I just said. She's _not_ _here_ Hargrove."

Billy…unsurprisingly doesn’t believe him, but it’s only unsurprising because those stupid  _ shitheads _ are peaking out the window and not  _ hiding _ like Steve had told them to, which Steve only notices when Billy leans in real close and points over his shoulder.

"Then who...the fuck is that?" 

_ Goddammit _ .

“Oh Shit—“ Steve says when Billy points at Max in the window, and then suddenly he’s falling on his ass and getting a kick to his stomach as Billy pushes past him into the Byers house.

By the time he gets in the house all he hears is shouting and all he sees is Billy shoving Lucas up against Mrs. Byers china cabinet. All he sees is another Dom in his space, an enemy, someone hurting the kids he’d taken under his wing—the kids he’d promised to take care of, to protect-- _ his kids _ . 

Steve’s vision goes a little dark around the edges after that. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt so suddenly and all consumingly  _ angry _ before this moment. He’s always scoffed at the stories of Dominants going into uncontrollable rages, rolled his eyes when his father gave him ‘the talk’ of how he had to be careful with who he chose to see as  _ his _ to protect, always thought to himself  _ that’d never happen to me, I have more control than that. _

And yet...and yet here he is, feeling something dark and strong and uncontrollable surging within him at the sight of  _ his kids _ being threatened. He feels, in that moment, anything  _ but  _ in control _. _

The first punch feels better than anything he’s ever felt before. A release of a tension band that’s been stretching tighter and tighter for months now, sharp and twisting and  _ good _ . And Billy…well Steve thinks he must be certifiably insane to laugh like that after getting his nose knocked in.

“Seems like you’ve got some  _ fire _ in you after all, huh Harrington,” Billy cackles, wiping at his face. There’s an unnerving look in his eyes that sets Steve’s teeth on edge. “I’ve been waiting to meet this  _ King Steve _ everyone’s been telling me  _ so _ much about! This  _ Top Dom _ that no one can beat!”

_ “Hargrove,” _ Steve says, and the words are laced with as strong of a Command as he can push into them. Its the strongest order he’s ever given in his life, utterly unfettered by social constraints or restraint.  **_“Get out.”_ **

Billy gives a literal  _ full-body flinch _ at the Command, his face twisting with—

_ —pain, hurt, shock, confusion, panic— _

It isn’t the response Steve expects. For a moment he’s caught off guard, off-balance and confused himself.

The punch comes out of nowhere in his moment of confusion, but Steve still manages to dodge it even as he admonishes himself for being distracted. He punches back, quick and hard, and revels in the rush he gets when it lands on Billy like a hammer to an anvil. He can hear Dustin egging him on, because of course he would, and it sends a thrill of pride up his spine. Steve focuses on taking advantage of the upper hand he’s managed to grasp and pushes Billy back against the sink.

He narrows his eyes at Billy, at the gleam of instability in his eyes, at the straining muscles in his arms, and he knows the longer this fight goes on the less likely he is to win it. He may be taller than Billy, but the other teen clearly has ten pounds of muscle on Steve and far more fights under his belt. 

...and there’s also the fact that Steve clearly has more sanity and good sense than Billy, which is not exactly an advantage in this particular situation. 

He needs to end this fight and end it fast. 

It hadn’t worked the first time…but the flinch Billy’d given when Steve pushed his Command behind his words gives Steve hope that it may work if he tries again now that he’s disoriented and bleeding and backed into a corner.

So Steve fists Billy’s obnoxiously open collar, slams him back into the cupboards, and looks him straight in the eye. He tries to emulate that thing his father does when he’s attempting to cow Steve into doing what he wants, tries to puff up his chest and make his shoulders look broader, and then he releases the full force of his Command like a crashing wave.

_ “I said. Get. Out.” _ Steve repeats, and he slams his Command outwards with as much strength as he can.  _ It’s dangerous to push that hard,  _ a little voice says in his head,  _ that way lies coma patients and brain-dead vegetables. _ But Steve ignores the voice easily. If there’s ever a time to give it his all, it’s now when he’s up against a Dom who he’s pretty sure is above his weight class, at least as far as muscle mass and street cred go—but then—

Billy’s face does something strange, abruptly crumbling and looking  _ shocked _ and  _ confused  _ again and that is—well, that is most definitely  _ not _ how a Dom or even a Switch would react to a Command that strong. There should be an automatic push back, a winner or a loser, a look of anger or fear, the thrashing of a wild animal in a trap, not…not  _ that.  _ It makes Steve’s grip loosen, makes him hesitant and confused—because if anything that’s what an overwhelmed Sub would look like when hit with a Command that strong, but that makes absolutely no sense, just doesn’t compute because—

Steve’s brief moment of hesitancy, of confused backpedaling, is all the time Billy needs to get his bearings.

There’s pain, suddenly, and the sound of breaking ceramic. Steve stumbles back and grips his head, surprised and immediately disoriented. Things get a little blurry after that, a little dark around the edges again, but this time it’s not from anger—this time it’s just a good old-fashioned concussion.

He remembers hearing Billy say in a shaking voice, “No one…tells me what to do.”, and then there’s more pain and more screaming from the kids, and the last thing he sees is the look on Billy’s face as he pounds his face in. A look of anger, desperation, fear, and utter helplessness. Even though Steve’s own pain and panic and fear, he can’t help but fixate on Billy’s face and…

Then the world goes black. 

—

When Steve wakes up next he finds he has more important things to fixate on than Billy Hargrove’s fucked up emotions—namely the fact that a thirteen-year-old is in the god damned driver's seat taking them on a suicide mission to interdimensional tunnels of death. 

A suicide mission that Steve is inevitably roped into participating in if only because kids their age don’t have the brain capacity to understand the sheer idiocy and danger of their actions, and also he promised Nancy he’d keep them safe so…yup, into the creepy tunnels Steve goes.

It’s only later, when everyone is safe and Steve is driving them all back to the Byers house—' _Concussion or no, Max, you are_ _not_ _getting back in the driver's seat while I’m awake and alive, got it?'_ —that Billy is even a thought in his mind again…and only because he finds Hopper and Joyce standing over his prone body and giving him the most ‘done with this shit’ glares he’s ever seen.

“Steve…” Joyce says slowly, hands on his hips, “Who is this stranger passed out on my floor?”

“Uh, I can explain.” Steve says at exactly the same time as Max says, “An asshole.”

They look at each other, then look back to Joyce and Hopper, then immediately look down at the floor when Billy himself groans.

“He—okay, he’s my stepbrother and he came in, looking for me, started a bunch of crap, then Steve stepped in and got his ass handed to him and—“ Max blurts out in one long breath.

“Hey! I was holding my own until that plate hit me—“ Steve cuts in over her, and Dustin nods along and pat’s his arm, saying “Sure you were Steve, you did great buddy!” while Max continues to ramble on as if they hadn't said anything.

“—and so I stuck one of Will’s tranquilizer shots in his neck and then we stole his car to go to the tunnels and distract the Mind flayer and—uh, and so…so that’s why he’s, why Billy’s um, here.” Max finishes, shooting dodgy looks around the room to avoid Joyce’s shocked eyes. 

“You  _ stole _ his ca—no, you went  _ where? _ I thought I told you to stay here and not get into trouble!” Hopper says, then shakes his head abruptly, “No, y’know what? Don’t answer that, I don’t want to know. Whatever happened…happened. The gate is closed. Everyone is safe. It’s over. Fuck.”

“Language!” Joyce says, even as she's nodding along with Hopper, wringing her hands as she looks over her shoulder at the couch where Mike and El are hugging and looking tired but happy. 

Steve looks around to find Will sleeping in the armchair, totally out of it but not looking as sick and pale as before. Jonathan is beside him with Nancy at his shoulder and he can’t help that it hurts to see them so obviously close, but Steve is happy at least that they’re here and alive and safe. 

All in all…Steve has to agree. It’s over. Everything is over…now they just have to get everyone back to their parents' houses without them calling the police on them—although with Hopper with them Steve figures that problem is solved.

Suddenly a sound breaks the silence—one that every teenager that’s been to a party will recognize. That lurching, hiccuping breathing, the little whimper deep in the throat.

It was the unmistakable sound of someone about to vomit.

Steve immediately looks down at Billy, who's lying on his back, still totally out of it, and whose mouth is filling up with—yup, vomit. 

Hopper is the first to move—the knowledge that comes with many long years of breaking up teen parties kicking in—and he turns Billy on his side immediately so that he doesn’t choke. The smell is disgusting, and Steve finds it hard to keep the sympathy hurls down.

“Jesus, you sure you only gave him a shot of tranquilizer? He’s burning up.” Hopper mumbles as he pries Billy’s mouth open to make sure it’s clear. Across from Steve he can see Max is white as a sheet as she looks at Billy.

“I—I just used one of Will’s shots, I swear!” She says quickly. “Shouldn’t he…be waking up by now or something?”

“How much did you give him, sweety?” Joyce says as she soothes a hand down Max’s back.

“The…whole thing?” Max says hesitantly, “That’s how much you guys gave Will right? And he was fine? A-anyways, I had to, he was going to  _ kill _ Steve!”

“Okay,  _ kill _ is an overstatement, I had him on the ropes—“

“Sure, sure, Steve, everyone believes you, Buddy. You totally had that fight in the bag.”

“Oh you are  _ asking _ for it Henderson—“

“Okay, okay that’s enough!  _ Everyone be quiet! _ ” Joyce shouts and there’s a strong Command behind the words that actually startles Steve a bit. She turns quickly to Max, her whole demeanor changing to become soft and gentle. “Max, sweetie, you did fine, you did what you thought was best, okay? And you’re right, it shouldn’t have been too much for Billy…the tranquilizer was meant for Will after all, and he’s half his size.”

Hopper nods from his place on the floor trying to prop the dead weight that is Billy up as best he can. “Right. He’s just…having a bad reaction to it I think. Can people be allergic to tranquilizers?" 

“He’s fine. He-he’s just faking. Billy, would you just, quit it, already alright? Stop faking and wake up—” 

“Alright, Max, sweetie, just calm down—” Joyce says softly, taking her chin in her hands to force her to look at her.

Max only shakes her head, her panicked breathing only calming under Joyce's sweet voice and gentle hands as she hugs the girl to her chest. Steve can't help but think she truly is the epitome of a perfect mother…calming, nurturing but with a spine of steel when it comes to protecting them. He knows most would consider the ‘perfect mother’ to be a Sub, but Steve knows from first-hand experience that being a good mom and a good Sub do not always go hand-in-hand. He wonders suddenly if Mrs. Byers is a Switch like her son Jonathan, or just a Dom—the Command in her voice was strong but that doesn’t always mean anything. 

Either way, Steve's admiration for the woman truly knows no bounds—he doesn’t know how she can calm the kids down so easily, he’d tried and  _ man _ it was not as easy as she made it look.

“Jonathan, the rest of the kids need to get home before sunrise... their parents are probably worried sick,” Joyce says quickly, moving into the kitchen to get water and a damp cloth, movements frantic with nerves. “I’m going to clean Billy up...we’ll probably have to bring him to the hospital...” 

“You’re sure you’ll be alright Mom?” Jonathan asks, giving Billy a weary look.

“Of course,” Joyce says with a tight smile, “You just get everyone home safe for me alright? I can handle this.”

Jonathan finally nods and gives Will’s unconscious head one last stroke before he and Nancy steer the gaping, protesting kids out the door. 

“What, no, no way are we leaving Max here alone with that guy again. He’s crazy—!” Lucas says sharply, resisting Jonothan’s hand on his shoulder, and Steve steps in then to help push him towards the door.

“She isn’t alone Sinclair,” Steve says tiredly, “Look, I’m here aren’t I? I’ll get her home, safe and sound, I promise.”

“But—“ Lucas says half out the door, striving to see around Steve to Max.

“ _ Go _ .” Steve says putting Command in his voice without realizing it. He instantly clenches his jaw at the loss of control, considering he hadn’t meant to do it he suddenly wonders just how hurt his head actually was.  Not that it matters anyway, considering he’s speaking to a child who can’t even recognize Command's yet. He rolls his eyes at himself and gives Lucas a gentle shove out the door. “She’ll be fine Sinclair, I promise.”

And with that, the door shuts in his face and the Byers house is kid-free except for an unconscious Will and one terrified Maxine Mayfield.

“Oh my god,” Max whispers suddenly, and when Steve turns to look he sees Billy convulsing on the floor. “Oh my god, I just wanted him to stop, I didn’t want the asshole to  _ die.” _

_ “Shit,”  _ Hopper says emphatically, pulling his belt from his pants in jerky quick movements. “Steve! Get the hell over here and help me hold him still!”

"Max, I want you to help me get Will into his room and stay with him there, alright? Hopper and Steve will take care of this, I  _ promise _ .“ Steve hears Joyce say as he rushes to help Hopper. Her voice is a lot less soothing now and a lot more worried.

Steve can hear Max follow Joyce towards Will’s room, her breathing harsh and panicked. Billy’s stopped convulsing by the time they’re gone, just lying there quiet and still and pale. Steve steps in to help Hopper get Billy onto the now-empty couch, feeling dizzy with the insanity of the moment.

He’s helping take care of  _ Billy Hargrove _ , when just a few hours ago he’d been beaten unconscious by him.  _ Insanity _ doesn’t even cover it.

“Is he on any drugs? Was he—I don’t know, high? Drunk? This does not seem like just a bad reaction to some fucking tranquilizers.” Hopper asks and Steve notes that he had slipped his own belt between Billy’s teeth at some point. Steve looks at it with wide eyes, realizes it must be so that if he has another...fuck, another  _ seizure _ , that he won’t bite his own tongue and choke on the blood. 

He wonders at how the chief of police seems so calm and assured in what he’s doing. How does he know? How does he know what to do, what will help? Steve wishes he could be the same—that he could help because he likes helping, likes making people feel better, always has…and then Hopper’s words register and a bell chimes in his head.

“I think he was.” He says suddenly, “When he first came here he looked…out of it. His pupils were blown to shit and he was…acting weird. Weirder than usual even. Jittery. Confused almost.”

“Shit.” Hopper says again, “We’re lucky this didn’t happen while he was alone—he easily could’ve died choking on his own vomit.”

A gasp comes from the hallway, and Hopper looks up and scowls when he sees Max still hovering around by the kitchen. “Kid—room, now! Dammit, Joyce—”

Joyce is out of Will's room and at her side in the next moment, even as she sends a glare over at Hopper. “Sweetie, I told you to stay with Will! We’ll handle this, alright? He’s gonna be fine. Please just wait in Will’s room and—”

But Max is having none of Joyce’s calm reassurance now, and she firmly resists her attempts to pull her back down the hall. “Wait, wait! I—I think I know what drugs he may have taken!”

Joyce stops pulling her, and Hopper looks over at her with wide eyes. Max swallows and pulls a baggy from her pocket, one filled with tiny round red pills.

"Oh fuck" Hopper says emphatically.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry to leave it on a cliff hanger *hides*
> 
> Let me know what you think of the fight! ;P


	4. The Cat's Out of the Bag Now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big chapter here! Hope you guys like it.

“Oh, fuck.” Hopper hisses as he takes the baggy of pills from Max. Steve’ notes their spherical shape is rather distinctive, as is the little ‘M’ imprinted at its center. “Do you have any idea what they are? Fentanyl? Ecstasy?”

“W-what?” Max stutters out in shock, looking pale-faced and frightened. 

"You mean, like molly?" Steve says, to which Hopper gives him a pointed look of disappointment. "What? I just know what it's called! Not like I've ever taken it or anything..."

“I don’t know! I—I found them in the glove compartment of his car. I was going to flush them because—because he broke my skateboard the other day and I wanted to get back at him, and I thought it’d piss him off...or something...” Max peters off, sounding almost winded.  Max is so white she looks like a ghost and Joyce only looks confused and worried. 

Steve, who has mostly stood back from this whole fiasco with a mounting headache, wants to laugh. The adrenaline is finally leaving his system, and with it goes whatever chemical his body had been pushing through his bloodstream to keep him from noticing the pain of his beaten face. Here he is, black and blue, head likely concussed, and everyone in the room worried over the idiot who'd done it to him in the first place—even Steve.

"I mean, I wouldn't be surprised if the asshole was on drugs, but I figured it'd be like, weed or something, not like... _real_ drugs." Steve says as he resists the temptation to poke Billy's limp form with his foot. For a moment he entertains the thought of what would happen if Billy died here on Mrs. Byer's floor, and feels a lurching need to vomit.

“Well, they’re certainly not Tylenol,” Hopper grumbles as he turns the pill over in his hand. He swears under his breath. “Fuck, _definitely_ not Tylenol. And not ecstasy either I don't think. They look like...some kind of Stim's.”

“...Stim's?” Max says in a small voice. Hopper looks over at her with a strange look.

“Your brother...what’s his designation?”

Max just looks confused. “...Dominant?”

Hopper’s shoulders slump a bit. “If these are what I think they are, then we have a fucking problem. Jesus, I do  _ not _ need this right now.”

“Should we…should we go to the hospital?” Steve asks, suddenly worried he was going to watch somebody die tonight. He didn’t like the guy but…fuck, he didn’t want to see him  _ die. _ Enough people had died tonight.  And Max...fuck, that poor kid. He can’t imagine what must be going through her mind, thinking she may be the reason her own step-brother could  _ die _ tonight. Even if the guy was an asshole of the highest caliber. “I’ll call an ambulance—”

“Uh…maybe not an ambulance,” Hopper says with a pointed look around the house—the walls covered in strange drawings, the blood and vomit on the floor, the half-open fridge filled with a dead demo dog. Which—that hadn't been half-open when they left...had it? “We’ll have to drive him.”

“Oh, right,” Steve says. “Yeah. That’s. Probably for the best.”

A groan interrupts them, one that comes from Billy and only vaguely sounds like human words. Hopper leans down closer to him. “Billy, you with us, kid? Open your eyes, c’mon.”

“No…no hospital.” Is what comes from Billy’s mouth, slurred and almost unintelligible. His eyes are distant and unfocused, his head lolling on the arm of the couch.

“Now is not the time to be stubborn Hargroves.” Steve says, “You are  _ seriously _ fucked up, worse than me even, and you beat the shit out of me—“

“No—no hospitals!” Billy shouts, and a sudden burst of energy erupts from him as he surges up from the couch. Hopper grabs his flailing hands before they can hit him, pulls them around to the base of Billy’s back, and holds them there. 

“Don’t touch me—!” Billy tries to shout, but then only vaguely struggles against Hoppers' hold before promptly giving up and slumping into his chest in exhaustion. It surprises Steve that Hopper chooses to push Billy’s head into his shoulder rather than back down onto the couch. Something about the position feels strange to Steve, like...well. Like a Dom trying to settle a Sub, which is...obviously ridiculous. 

Ha. Billy a Sub. He must really have a concussion to think something so ridiculous.

“Fuuuuck, Maxine what did you do?” Billy slurs out.

“I—I had to, I—” Max stutters out but Joyce shushes her with soft comforting noises, holding her to her side and forcing her down the hall even as she struggles against her. “Wait, I can’t leave—”

The door clicks shut down the hall, only Max’s muffled shouting to be heard distantly. Steve can’t help but be grateful that she’s gone, because really she’s too young to be seeing this...not that those kids haven’t seen worse by this point, but still Billy is Max’s sort-of family, even if not by blood. 

“She hit you with a tranq gun.” Hopper says shortly and Steve expects Billy to freak out again, but the teen only moans plaintively and holds his stomach. 

Joyce returns a moment later, looking like a nervous wreck with a spine of steel and a set jaw. She goes into the kitchen, closes the demodog laden fridge with far too much calm, and then comes back to the living room with a wet cloth. She looks at Steve critically for a moment, and tuts. 

"Steve, sweetheart, sit down. You look like a strong breeze would push you over." Gently, with a worried furrow of her brows, she pushes him down to sit on the couch next to Billy and chief Hopper. In a daze, Steve lets her, feeling a strange sense of unreality at the whole situation. She holds his chin with her fingers, forcing him to look up into her eyes. She only looks more worried at whatever she finds. "I think you have a concussion."

"Fuck." Chief Hopper says with a sigh, "We need to get them _both_ to a hospital. Easy to blame your face on a teen fight, but I don't know what the fuck I'll tell this kid's parents about why the hell he got hit with a tranquilizer..."

"I think the bigger issue here is what pills he took." Joyce huffs and kneels next to the couch in the next second as she takes a wet cloth to the back of Billy's neck. Hopper slowly loosens his hold and pushes Billy away from his shoulder so Joyce can clean up the vomit from his face next, and that's finally what seems to bring Billy back to reality. 

His eyes flash open, startled and wildly roving the room, landing at once on Steve as if drawn by a magnet. Steve isn't sure what he sees there in his eyes, but it makes him flash back to how he'd looked during their fight, when Steve had hit him with the full strength of his Command. A furrow of unease at the memory grows in the pit of his stomach, a seed of doubt growing alongside a terrible suspicion.

"Tranq...uilizer?" Billy mumbles out, clearly confused.

"Yeah." Hopper says, and though water drips down Billy's face and neck onto his shirt the chief doesn’t seem to mind, only holds him tighter. Strangely enough, it seems to calm Billy's heaving breaths, and the seed of unease in Steve's stomach grows. “I think it’s not reacting well with those pills of yours...that or you took too many. You wanna tell me what they were?”

Billy just curls up, turns his head into the chief’s shirt and _shakes_. Hopper has his hand at the back of the teen’s neck now, looking uncomfortable but unwavering. He’s comforting in a way that any Dom would do for a Sub that is overstimulated and in need of an anchor, and it strikes Steve as so…strange. 

He feels like he’s walked into an episode of the Twilight Zone...but then that’s not new. Strange seems to be Steve’s new normal really.

And yet, despite all the weird shit Steve has seen not even an hour ago, this seems on a whole new level of weird. He’s looking at Billy Hargrove, newly crowned Keg King of Hawkin’s High, the Dom that has taken his title and antagonized him since the first moment he’d seen him, the very definition of ‘Dom’ in every way…and he’s just  _ curled _ up against the chief of police's chest, looking for all the world like a Sub desperately attempting not to drop. This is a  _ human  _ sort of weird, and it feels...different from seeing portals to other universes or locking evil demon dogs in fridges.

An image flashes through his head, of Billy’s face when he’d told him to **_'get out’_** with the full force of his Command pushed at him during their fight. The desperation, the confusion, the panic, the sheer opposite of how a Dom would react to such a thing…

A slow realization starts to form in Steve’s mind, the pieces finally falling into place.  _ But it can’t be _ …it can’t be, because Steve has felt Billy’s Command before, has felt him push back, seen the sheer Dominance in his movements and his eyes, and none of the teachers at Hawkin’s high had treated him as anything but an unruly Dom which meant he had to have taken the designation tests and scored as a Dom and…he can’t just, can’t possibly be a—

“I’m taking you to the hospital whether you want me to or not. Steve too, after what you did to his face.” Hopper mutters, “So, you might as well tell me what they are. They’ll find out at the hospital anyway.”

Billy sniffs, his whole body limp. Steve hardly hears him when he finally speaks. “...M-Mandastim.”

“ _ Dammit _ , kid…I really didn’t want to be right about that,” Hopper whispers with a furrowed brow and a sigh. “How long have you been taking stimulants?”

_ Mandastim. Stimulants.  _

It all clicks into place. 

_ Oh shit. _ Steve thinks.

Steve’s heard stories of pills that supposedly ‘change your dynamic,’ either enlarge the part of the brain that transmits Command signals or the part of the brain that receives them. Stories that never,  _ ever _ end well. The sort of stories you hear from your parents when they're lecturing you on the danger of weed, stories that Steve had always rolled his eyes over thinking them an exaggeration. Only, even Steve knew those stories weren’t an exaggeration when it came to Mandastims.

He remembers suddenly the story that had aired just a few years past, breaking news of a famous politician found dead of an overdose of those exact pills. A Dominant to the public eye, one of his political rivals had found out his secret and threatened to expose him to the public, which had pushed the man into overdosing. 

His secretary had found him the next morning, his face bashed in from repeated slams against his own office wall.

He’d done it to himself, they said. On purpose.

Security tapes within the office had recorded the whole incident and, though they hadn’t shown the tapes on TV, even the description of them had made a younger Steve shiver in horror. The political rival had been utterly ruined by it, called out for blackmailing. Last he'd heard the guy had been bankrupted by lawsuits thrown at him by the dead man's family. It'd been the biggest scandal to come out of Indiana in his lifetime, not the sort of thing one forgot, and it had engrained in the public of Indiana a severe distaste for Mandastims. 

Steve can still remember his mother and father talking about it with hushed horrified voices, talking about how those drugs should be made federally illegal in all the US. Apparently even in Indiana Mandastim's had only been made it illegal some twenty years ago, right around the time his parents were Steve's age. The fact that they weren't illegal everywhere was insane to Steve in the first place, but when he'd asked about it his mother had only said that some places were just blinded by their own stupidity.

Steve is no stranger to drinking or smoking things he shouldn't as a teenager. He's done his fair share of illegal alcohol acquiring, and he's smoked plenty of weed, but the harder stuff generally didn't show up in a small town like Hawkins. Even Tommy, whose brother had access to everything under the sun as a college student in Indianapolis, didn't ever sell anything stronger than some shrooms and weed.

Mandastims were no joke. They weren't like weed. They weren't like alcohol.

“Why the fuck would you take that shit,” Steve says hollowly, uncomprehending.

“Why the fuck do you think, dipshit.” Billy croaks out with a sneer, finally pushing away from Hopper's chest, and it all but confirms Steve's suspicions.

“So you really are a Sub. _ ” _ Steve says without thinking, not a question, just a statement of shocked fact, and Billy gives him a look like he wants to melt his face off with a flamethrower and  Hopper throws Steve a look as if to say ‘shut up.'

Billy breathes shallowly, not answering, and when he finally does speak it’s only to croak out, “‘m gonna puke—“

Steve pushes the garbage under him just in time—and the retching noises Billy makes are enough to have Steve seriously consider leaving. He’s never been good with vomit, and right now there is a  _ lot _ of vomit. Seriously, Steve doesn’t think he’s ever seen someone throw up that much. Not even that one New Years Eve party where Tommy drank beer, whiskey and wine all in the same night. His mom’s favorite rug had never recovered.

"Joyce, start up the car—" Hopper starts to say, only for Billy to stutter out a refusal again weakly.

“‘m not going to the hospital.” Billy slurs when he can finally breathe enough to speak, finally trying to pull away from Hopper but too weak to manage it. Joyce hovers uncertainly by Hopper, likely waiting for the keys.

“You have a death wish?” Hopper growls and Billy turns and finally focuses on him enough to glare. 

“No, I really  _ fucking _ don’t,” Billy grit’s out around a disgusting vomit-laced burp, "that’s why I said no hospitals.”

“I’m gonna ask again, kid, and you better answer this time.” Hopper says slowly, face serious and all business.  _ “How long have you been taking those pills?”  _

This time there’s a generous lacing of Command underlying his words and Steve watches as Billy flinches, his head still hanging down over the garbage pail.

"Hopper..." Joyce hisses admonishingly, but Hopper just gives her a look.

“Two and a half years. One pill a day.” Billy murmurs after a moment, clearly losing the fight to resist the Command as his hands finally let go of their death grip on the garbage to rub into his eyes. He doesn’t look at either of them as he whispers, the words almost feeling like they’re ripped out of his throat. “Had to take two a day for a bit, in order to pass the designation test last year as a Dom but...I take breaks sometimes now. Couple of days usually, here and there...”

Steve’s eyes widen at that. Well, that explains how none of the teachers had a clue.

"My god..." Joyce murmurs with a worried look at Billy. She still has the wet cloth in her hand, and when she moves to wipe his face again Billy doesn't resist, just looks at her breifly in startled confusion, as if he's only just noticing she exists.

“Jesus  _ christ _ .” Hopper says emphatically. Then he gives a little disbelieving scoff and shakes his head. “Yeah, I’m taking you to Hawkins General whether you like it or not. How you are even this functional right now is beyond me—“

“You take me to a hospital...and I’ll tell the police about that freaky alien shit I found in your fridge.” Billy blurts out suddenly, and the room goes so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Hopper’s hand is still on the nape of Billy’s neck, and Steve can see the squeeze of it. Billy gives a hoarse gurgling laugh.

“Yeah. When I woke up the first time—felt sick and fucked up. Didn’t know where the hell I was, but wanted a drink...found that nightmare in the fridge instead. Fucking passed out as soon as I saw it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, kid. Must’ve been a dream.” Hopper says, all slow and monotone and strangely frightening. Billy gives a pained grimace of a smile. “Besides...if you haven’t noticed, I  _ am _ the police.”

Billy’s smile drops real quick then, his eyes flickering over Hopper’s shirt and pants as if only just noticing it’s a police chief’s uniform. Steve can see the gears shift in his mind as he looks over to Steve with a grimace, words slurring.

“How about Stevie over there then? Could be charged with...with kidnapping. A Dom, all alone with a bunch of kids...no one knowing nothin' bout it, Max here all alone with a bunch of boys, and then  _ lying _ to me about it—doesn’t look so good for him, dontcha think?"

“You trying to  _ blackmail _ us?” Hopper says deceptively calmly.

Billy gives a little shrug. “Maybe. 's it workin'?”

“You think  _ anyone _ would believe you right now? They’d probably think you’re delusional. Especially as soon as they find out what you've been taking.”

“Well…” Billy turns a smile on Hopper, one that Steve is regrettably familiar with. It’s all teeth, sharp and angry and strangely attractive even with how much of a mess Billy is at the moment. “Guess we’ll just have to see, won’t we?”

Hopper laughs briefly, and it isn’t a nice sound. Steve can see the chief doesn’t look worried, looks in fact more annoyed than anything but…Steve is worried. Because Steve thinks that in truth, Billy’s kind of right. 

This whole situation…doesn’t look great for Steve, and there’s only so much Hopper and his connections can do to smooth things over with angry or suspicious parents. He thinks he should’ve just let Billy take Max home before, should’ve fought against the obnoxious protective instincts that he firmly attributed to that baser ‘Dom’ part of his brain...but in the end what's done is done.

“Hopper…” Steve whispers, and he makes eye contact with the chief as best he can through his one unswollen eye, and sees the chief come to a decision with a frown.

“Alright, listen up.” Hopper says sharply, and Billy’s smile fades quickly in the face of the chief’s no-nonsense expression. “That ‘freaky alien’ you saw? Yeah...you’re not gonna tell anyone about that, because if you do, you know what would happen?”

Hopper’s grip tightens on Billy’s neck just as his smile tightens. Steve can see Billy’s throat bob, his eyes widen. “No? You don’t know? Well...I’ll tell you. What would happen is, you'd have the government so far up you and your family's ass you wouldn’t be able to take a  _ shit _ without seeing a camera aimed at you, understand? Your phones would be tapped, your every move watched, and if they thought you'd leak anything to the media they'd jump you without a second thought. So…you want to tell someone, go right ahead. But just know...I warned you what you’d be getting yourself into.”

Steve can see Billy’s adam’s apple bob as he swallows convulsively, the air tense with the sheer presence of Chief Jim Hopper at his most Dominant.

“Now, as for Steve…seems to me that he was just babysitting for Joyce here, isn’t that right Steve? She had to go pick up Will at the hospital, y’know, leftover issues from his time being missing. It was a rough night for everyone, and then you came along all hopped up on  _ illegal _ drugs and spouting nonsense, so Steve did what any responsible babysitter would do and told you to fuck off, because he couldn’t let you drive a kid around in your condition. And you, well, you didn’t take that very well.” Here Hopper stops, raises a brow, and gives a pointed look to Steve’s face. 

“I think anyone who looks at him would probably side with him,  _ dontcha think?” _

Billy looks down sharply, mouth pressed into a thin line and his hair falling into his face. It’s quiet for a long time, and Hopper takes it to mean he’ll cooperate. He pulls Billy up and back onto the couch and nods at Steve as he throws his keys to him. “Go get the car started. Joyce, get Max, we'll have to drop her off after. We’re heading to the hospital, _now._ ”

Steve doesn’t think twice, just moves to do as he’s told and starts up the car, turning the heat up to combat the cold. It helps clear his head a bit, makes the throbbing pain of his face feel a bit better. 

He thinks briefly of staying there, huddled in the front seat of the chief’s beat-up cruiser, but then swears as he realizes how ridiculous he’s being. Like he’s  _ afraid _ to go back inside and look at Billy Hargroves all weak and soft and vulnerable and it’s just...it’s all  _ wrong. _ He needs a damn minute to think about this shit.

But his eyes are drifting closed and his head is foggy and  _ shit, _ Steve feels something like terror startle him awake as he realizes he’s  _ falling asleep. _ Some gut instinct mixed with half-remembered health class information tells him it would be a very  _ not good _ idea to fall asleep right now, with his head in the condition it is.

When he reenters the home he’s struck by the tense atmosphere. Joyce is standing there, Max at her side and he can see Billy glaring at her even as Hopper loops his arm around his shoulder as if readying himself to heave the teen up to his feet.

But before he can, Billy says to Max, “We’ll move again, Max.”

Hopper hesitates, looking between Max and Billy hesitantly. Billy continues, “If you let them take me to the hospital, let them find out about the pills...Neil will move us again. Do you really want that, Maxine?”

Everyone turns sharply to look towards the hallway where Max is standing. She looks caught between angry and worried, frustrated and uncertain. Billy continues talking before she can answer, and Steve can’t help a shiver of unease at how blank and flat the look in his eyes are.

“I go to the hospital, it’ll be less than a week before everyone in the town knows I’ve been lying about my designation. And dad…well, Neil can't stand the idea of everyone knowing his son’s…he’d move us within the week, Max he’d—” Billy swallows heavily, seemingly unable to finish the sentence. He keeps his eyes locked on Max’s even as Hopper glares at him.

“You saying what I think you are kid?” Hopper growls out. It makes Billy flinch a bit and Steve can’t help but note how he looks like a cornered dog, eyes wild and teeth bared, willing to do anything to escape.

“I’m not saying  _ shit _ to you—”

“Did your father give you those pills?”

Billy looks away, scoffing, but it’s clear by the bald fear on his face that the answer is an irrefutable  _ yes. _

_ Jesus Christ _ . Steve thinks in horror. _Can this guy get any more fucked up?_

Billy looks back to Max desperately, words slurring as he gets more and more wound up, “We’d move within the month, Max, y'hear me? Don’t you like it here, for whatever fucked up reason? Don’t y'like all y'r weird little friends? You threatened me with a baseball bat full of fucking nails for them so I’d hope y'fucking do.”

“She did what?” Steve says in shock, at the same time that Joyce makes a sound of understanding and murmurs, “Oh, so that’s why there’s a chunk of wood taken out of my floor.”

“I—I don’t want to move again, but I also don’t want you to fucking  _ die  _ Billy,  _ jesus!”  _ Max says, looking pissed and afraid at the same time.

“For  _ fucks _ sake…everyone just—just shut up.” Hopper groans. He stands, leaving Billy slumped alone against the couch, and starts pacing. “This night—this goddamned night. I am just—I’m done. I am  _ done _ with it. The amount of grey hair this one single night has given me, Joyce, I swear I could retire right now and no one would question that I’m not old enough. Fuck.”

“We’ve all had a tough night Hopper, let's just calm down, alright? Why don’t we talk over here for a moment, okay? Just me and you.” Joyce gets up and places a soothing hand on Hoppers back as she guides him towards the corner of the room away from Billy and Max. Steve can hear them whispering, and he edges closer partly to hear better but also to get away from the awkward family drama happening between Max and Billy that Steve doesn’t really want any part of. 

In the corner of the room, Hopper and Joyce have formed a small semicircle with their bodies. He can see how Joyce is positioning her body to be as open and unobtrusive as possible while she talks to Hopper, how her neck leans to the side subtly and her shoulders are sloped, the very picture of a Sub trying to calm down a Dom, “Let's think this through, Jim, alright? No need to make hasty choices that we might regret.”

_ Definitely a Switch _ , Steve thinks, and then chastises himself for even focusing on something so unimportant at a time like this. Though, to be fair, he can’t focus on anything right now for more than a few seconds. Must be that pesky concussion everyone seems to have forgotten Billy’d given him.

“You should make a call to someone—y'know who—and get them to keep his hospital visit quiet, like you did with Will.” Joyce whispers, and Hopper pinches the bridge of his nose.

“That was…different. Will was a special case. This guy, he's just some kid with drugs he shouldn’t have—“

“It  _ sounds _ like he has them because his father  _ wants _ him to have them.”

“Right, which is an issue on its own, pushing drugs like that on his own fucking kid. It’s my job to put pieces of shit like that in jail.” Hopper says, punctuating the words with harsh hand movements. “So, I take him to the hospital, everything comes to light, we get the asshole on child endangerment and illegal drug trafficking and—“

“ _ Or _ he blames his kid for the Mandastim, who of course would go along with it if his father tells him to. If he admits to getting them on his own, he'll likely get off easily, being a minor. Then what do you think would happen? That man would take his family, and just like Billy said, they'd be gone within the month.” Joyce interrupts smoothly, voice gentle and coaxing. “I’ve known Dom's like that my whole life—hell, I was  _ married  _ to one! I know how they think, I _know_ that's what he'd do.”

Joyce frowns, puts a hand on Hopper’s arm and leans closer, “Men like that, they don’t like to see people that are  _ different _ , they think the only right way to be is  _ their _ way, and everyone else has to be  _ changed _ . You know the type Jim, don’t you? I think you do. I think you know  _ exactly _ the extent to which people like that will go to keep control of their family. Are you really going to let something like that happen in _your_ town? Again?”

_Again?_ Steve can't help but think with surprise. He almost wants to but in and ask what she means, but the moment isn't right, clearly.

Hopper is quiet though, his shoulders back and hands on his hips but his head bowed. Steve can’t see his face where he stands, but he can see Joyce smile in a sad way that speaks of joint understanding and shared pain. It's clear her phrasing is deliberate too, speaking to the protectiveness of a Dom for what he considers _his,_ and Steve finds himself duly impressed by the little manipulation even as it makes him want to maybe laugh a bit hysterically. After all, he never thought he'd see the day that Joyce Byers defended a bully like Billy Hargrove. 

"Take the kids to the hospital. Make your call. They'll make it seem like it's just a teen fight gone wrong, Mr. Hargrove will be none the wiser, and it'll give you more time to figure out the situation and get the bastard." Joyce says softly but fiercely, "I don't want those sort of drugs, those sort of _mindsets_ spreading around this town again any more than you do. Especially now that...now, with Bob being...I just think something like this would have been important to him. He...he was Jerry Ames best friend you know?"

Hopper looks at her sharply then, and an unspoken understanding passes between them that Steve has no possibility of understanding. "It won't be like then. There won't be another Jerry Ames in this town, I swear it. I'll handle it, Joyce, I swear."

"No. I know it won't." She says quietly, "You're a good man, Hopper."

And Steve...well, Steve has sympathy for this whole situation, he does, but he’s also just really,  _ really,  _ done with all this drama and craziness, honestly. He can't find the energy to ask what the hell they're talking about, who the hell Jerry Ames was, what the hell it has to do with any of this.

He is exhausted, his head and face are throbbing, and at this point…he is done caring about Billy Hargrove and whatever is going on in his fucked up life. He cares for Max in as much as he cares for all the kids but…well, he really just wants to go to the hospital at this point, get some stitches, some painkillers, let the adults deal with the big stuff, and go to fucking sleep.

“So…not that this isn't a very important conversation, very touching, really, but…” Steve says as he physically inserts himself into the semicircle Hopper and Joyce have made in the corner of the room. “I think I may pass out soon if I don’t lay down, and I’ve heard that’s rather  _ bad _ for people with a concussion—something which, by the way, I am ninety-nine percent sure I have, sooo…”

“Oh, Steve, of course, I’m so sorry,” Joyce says as she wrings her hands. She looks back to Hopper, and he gives her a little nod. “I’m going to take you there right now, okay? You and Billy both. Hopper will make a call, take Max home and—well, you don’t need to worry about that. He'll handle it.”

A decision, finally, seems to have been made. Steve sighs in relief and lets the rest of the night’s worries and issues drift away. “I’ll go wait in the car then?” 

Joyce nods and gives him a sympathetic smile and rubs his arm.  _ Such a good mom, _ Steve thinks, and then wishes his own mother were here with a sudden ache. But he knows that’s a stupid wish, because his mom is off in New York talking up his father’s business associates for him, and even once she comes home she’ll only give him a quick peck on the cheek and a cursory question or two about his time alone. 

When Billy finally slides into the car seat next to him, he’s helped generously by Hopper. He looks about as terrible as Steve feels—maybe worse actually. Steve doesn't know why he does it, but rather than get into the passenger seat next to Joyce, he gets in the backseat and sits opposite of Billy. The other teen doesn’t look at Steve, just keeps his gaze straight out the window, exhausted and defeated looking. He doesn't even react when Max hovers uncertainly next to the car, looking like she wants to say something to him, before heading over to Hopper's cruiser. Joyce starts the car up, smiling painfully at Steve and Billy both in the rearview mirror, before she steps on the gas and peels out of her driveway.

And Steve...fuck, he really does not want to involve himself any further in this whole situation, he _really_ doesn't…except that watching Billy shake and curl in on himself and pick at his nails until they bleed, looking for all the world like he’s going to hyperventilate all the while sitting  _ right _ next to him…well, it's making that increasingly overbearing ‘Dom’ hindbrain of his feel like shit. 

_ You’re a terrible Dom, letting a Sub sit right next to you and drop like this _ , a voice whispers cruelly in his ear, sounding unnervingly like Nancy,  _ You think you’re so great, such a ‘good Dom’, but it’s all bullshit isn’t it Steve? _

_ Shut the fuck up _ , Steve tells the voice in his head and then looks around briefly to make sure he hadn’t said the words out loud because he honestly wasn’t sure. Fuck this concussion, seriously.

But no, Steve is a  _ great _ Dom—just ask anyone he’d ever been with, they’ll all tell you he was respectful and attentive and commanding all at once, and he’s never once had a Sub drop on him. Not since the first time anyways, but he thinks everyone makes mistakes the first time and he’d made up for it, so he doesn’t really count it.

But…watching Billy Hargrove so obviously close to subdrop makes him…itchy. It doesn’t matter that he’s only just recently become aware of the fact that he’s a Sub, doesn’t matter that he and Billy had just been beating on each other just hours earlier, doesn’t even matter that Billy is dude…all that matters is that Steve is a Dom and Billy is obviously a Sub close to dropping, and if Steve can do something to stop that, then shouldn’t he?

He finds it was entirely natural then, to reach out and grab Billy by the wrist, stopping his rabid picking. He sees the other teen startle out of the corner of his eye as he pulls his hand down to the seat between them. He doesn’t look directly at him.

“ _Stop._ _ ” _ Steve whispers, the Command gentle and cautious in his voice. It’s a Command meant for a Sub, and it’s nothing like what Steve has pushed at Billy earlier this very night during their fight. "You should sleep on the way. _Get some rest."_

He doesn't look at him, doesn't say anything else, just holds his wrist firmly in his hand, rubbing his thumb over his wrist soothingly. Billy only tries once to pull his hand back, but it’s such a weak pathetic attempt that Steve almost doesn’t count it. 

It's a little thing, just a small display of comfort and assurance and direction, but it seems to help. Billy’s breathing slows a bit, his shaking calms, his eyes drift close and his body slumps against the door. Steve avoids Joyce's approving eyes in the rearview mirror and tries not to fall asleep too before they reach the hospital. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor steve. Poor Billy. Poor Max. Honestly poor everybody in the this fucked up situation haha. 
> 
> So now the cat's out of the bag, and the real meat of this story is starting. There will actually be quite a bit of plot in this, which surprised me. It's definitely not how I'd intended the story to go when I started writing it, but it just sort of happened lol. Anyways, Jerry Ames (Bob's high school best friend) will be important to said plot so remember that name! 
> 
> I had a lot of fun writing the interactions between everyone here and how it's affected by their dynamics, especially Hopper and Joyce! They obviously won't be having any romance anytime soon considering Joyce just lost Bob, but they do have a connection and are going to be very close friends in this fic. As for Steve's interactions with Billy...they might seem a bit hot/cold right now, but y'know Steve just got beat to shit by Billy so he's a little conflicted. Same with Max.
> 
> My only issue with this chapter was that I did feel like they took way too long to get Billy to the hospital considering the immediate danger of his health issues...but in the end I couldn't make it to work any other way so I just left it. 
> 
> What did you guys think?


	5. A Painful Lie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, everyone, this is a pretty heavy chapter. Warning of lots of serious talk about the effects of drug abuse, conversion therapy/drugs, and Billy's bad headspace about being a Sub.

Billy comes to with the chief of police at his side, fully decked out in his uniform and looking rather large and intimidating even sitting down. Billy doesn’t remember what his name is, but he recognizes him from around town. He’s got coffee in his hand and the smell of it is enough to have Billy nearly groaning in jealousy.

“Morning.” The chief says to him gruffly, “There’s a doctor that’ll want to talk to you after I leave, but I thought we should talk first. Get some things straight.”

Billy blinks the sleep from his eyes, slowly processing the words that come from the cop's mouth. Then the realization of just where he is, of what had happened the night before, hits him like a semi-truck. He sits up suddenly, stomach swooping with nausea, and he can hear the rapid increase of his heartbeat echoing in the room via the machines hooked up to him.

“Whoa, whoa, calm down kid.” The cop says as he places a hand on his chest and pushes him back into the bed carefully. Billy is weak enough that his elbows go out at even the slightest press. “You shouldn’t get up right now. Doc’s orders."

“Doctor…” Billy starts in a hoarse voice. He licks his dry lips, aching for water. “This the hospital?”

The cop nods, but Billy hadn’t really needed an answer. He closes his eyes and tries to calm down, but the damn machine he’s hooked up to just keeps beeping faster and faster, and the noise makes him almost dizzy. He remembers then how easily he’d been pressed into the car, how he’d fallen asleep with Steve fucking Harrington’s hand on his wrist and Command in ringing in his ears…

Jesus, he is _fucked._

“You can calm down.” The cop says, “I've made sure no one’s going to know about the pills. Called in a favor.”

Billy slowly looks to the chief, eyes wide and disbelieving. The man just scratches at his chin, totally relaxed. He doesn’t look like he’s lying, which only makes Billy more suspicious. Then a thought occurs to him.

“You a friend of my dad’s or something?” He croaks out because that’s the only reason he can think of that the man would turn a blind eye to the illegal drugs that hid his designation. He must be of the same mind as Neil Hargrove, the kind of man who thinks there’s something inherently wrong with Male Subs, something to be _fixed_. It’s not exactly a well looked upon belief outside religious circles as far as public opinion goes, but that doesn’t stop people from harboring secret prejudices, from looking at their Submissive coworker with a smile while he’s looking and a scowl when he’s not.

It wouldn’t surprise Billy if the next words out of the man’s mouth were ‘Just be more careful next time,’ or ‘Don’t let me _catch_ you with those pills again and I won’t confiscate them.’ 

It’s happened before, back in Cali when Billy had gotten a little too lazy and stupidly hid the pills in his locker at school….

One look at the chief of police’s face though and he knows that theory is dead wrong. He can tell the man is utterly disgusted at the idea of being _friends_ with Neil Hargrove, which may or may not gain him a bit of respect from Billy at that moment.

“Fuck, _no_. I’ve never met him and I don’t particularly care to, honestly. Might arrest him if I did, and right now that may not go so well for anyone.” The cop says, and he must see the surprise on Billy’s face because he shakes his head in disbelief. “If you think I’m letting you off easy, think again kid. There are conditions to my help here, understand?”

 _Of course,_ Billy nods, feeling on more even ground with the idea of a give and take. He isn’t sure he wants to know what the man is getting out of helping him, so he decides to stall.

“Could I...get some water, chief, or uh...I mean, sir?”

The cop abruptly raises a brow at the ‘sir,’ and Billy actually flushes a bit in embarrassment. It’d just slipped out, felt like the right thing to say to law enforcement. Plus the guy is a Dom that knows what his real designation is and might have...expectations. Billy honestly hasn’t been around too many people that know he is what he is, and he isn’t quite sure how he’s supposed to act. He regrets saying it immediately though at the uncomfortable look on the chief’s face, has to remind himself that the man isn’t his father, actually seems like a pretty good guy...for a cop anyways.

“Just Chief Hopper is fine.” He says, clearing his throat. Billy nods and is both grateful and embarrassed at the help the man gives him in sitting up to drink a cup of water. It may honestly be the best water Billy has ever tasted. 

“Right,” Billy says and clears his throat. He flinches a little when Hopper moves to take the cup and refill it for him. He flushes and looks away from the look the cop gives him then, so full of fucking _understanding._ He wants to tell him to fuck off with that pity shit, but he has a feeling that wouldn’t go over well.

“ _Relax._ I’m just trying to help you, kid, no tricks.” The cop says quietly, and it’s exactly how Billy has heard a thousand Dom’s before him talk to Sub’s that it instantly makes the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Soft, gentle, nice. 

People don’t talk to _him_ like that. They just...don’t. 

_Not anyone since John, anyways,_ Billy thinks warily, _and look how that’d turned out._

“Whatever,” Billy grumbles, hackles raised and a creeping suspicion entering his mind. “Shit, you going to tell me I need some big strong Dom to look after me or something are you? Is that what this is? Some kind of...weird come on?”

“What? NO!” The cop says immediately, and Billy’s shoulders relax a bit at the honest look of disgust on his face.

“Thank fuck.” Billy mutters, “No offense but you’re old as shit, and pills or no pills, I don’t need a Dom alright?”

“Jesus christ kid…” Hopper sighs, shaking his head. "Look, all I want from you is information. Now, those pills? I want you to bring me the bottle—and don’t give me that look, I know you have one hidden away somewhere—just bring it to me as soon as you get out of this hospital. All of them. Got it?” The man leans forwards as he says it, holding Billy’s eyes in his forcefully. 

Billy frowns but doesn’t feel any compulsion to nod, to obey. There’s no Command behind the cops' words, not yet.

“Also—you won’t be taking them anymore. And to make sure you don’t? Well, you’ll be doing community service at the station, allegedly to avoid assault charges from one Steve Harrington’s parents and charges from the Hawkin’s police department for possession of psychedelics.”

“Whoa, wait _psychedelics—_ ”

“Getting there kid, just listen. Anyways, the community service is non-negotiable. Not only so I can keep an eye on your _illegal_ drug habits, but also because you beat the shit out of one of the few teenagers in this town that I actually like. So. Consequences.” Hopper says as he points sharply at Billy with narrowed eyes, “and don’t think you’ll be able to hide it from me either if you start taking again. I’ll know.”

Billy’s brows furrow. That…isn’t what he’d been expecting. It also isn’t something he’s really willing to do, considering. “That’s—I can’t do that, I need—“

“Oh, you’ll do it alright.” The chief says severely, “It’s either my way or the highway kid. You break our deal and all this special _hush hush_ treatment? Poof. Gone.” 

Billy swallows heavily. He can see the headlines in his head, stark and bold at the top of Hawkins Post. 

_‘17 YEAR OLD BILLY HARGROVES, A HAWKINS HIGH STUDENT, FOUND POSSESSION OF MANDASTIMS TO HIDE DESIGNATION AS MALE SUB.’_

_‘Oh, so he’s not a Dom?’_ They’ll say, _‘Is he a Switch? A Sub? I haven’t felt a single Command from him since he got back, he must be a Sub. A male Sub? And he tried to hide it? How pathetic._

Then the rumors would start and spread and it wouldn’t take long before Neil would pull his usual strings to get the law on his side and sweep the whole thing under the rung, and he’d take the family somewhere else, someplace where he would get more pills and where the cops probably wouldn’t be nearly as nice, maybe even one of the states where it isn’t entirely illegal, where he can keep Billy even further under his thumb.

But…if he stops taking the pills…

Well, Neil might not notice much at this point, not now that he’s got Susan and Max to play perfect nuclear family with. He’s been better about ignoring Billy unless he does something wrong to draw attention to himself, not even forcing him to go to church with them every Sunday anymore. Plus, though he’s only been here a little while, Billy’s gained enough of a reputation as a Dom that he may be able to get away with not using his Command on anyone if he acts aloof enough. He’d rarely even used it before, just at key moments to make a point, win a fight maybe...or when he was tentatively seeing a Sub he knew would spread the word of his prowess around. 

Besides, he’d already taken his designation tests, already had that all-important ‘D’ next to his gender and name on his transcript. It’s usually enough for people to look the other way if he does something off dynamic, but Billy hasn’t had a slip-up in months anyways. He’s learned to perfect his demeanor and his looks to push his dynamic where his weak Command couldn’t. Billy knows the power of posturing and appearances when it comes to how people look at him, and really all he has to do is make it until the end of next summer, right? Save up a little more money, keep his head down, and then he’s home free from Neil and Indiana and this weird-ass town with weird-ass monsters in fridges.

He's never really given much thought to ever stopping the drugs...always thought maybe eventually it'd 'stick' like Neil always said it would and then he could stop. Maybe he'll start taking it again once this all blows over, once the chief of police has stopped watching him so closely...that's what he knows he should do, anyway, that's what Neil would want for him. Whatever his feelings towards his father, he knows he's right about some things, especially how the world works, how it runs off power, a power which people like him have none of without the drugs.

“…alright.” Billy finally says tentatively, his dry throat clicking as he swallows. “I guess. Not like you’re giving me much choice.”

“Good. And you’ll tell me when your pops gives you new ones too.” The chief says, and Billy grimaces, finally realizing just what the catch is. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah, sure you don’t.” Hopper sighs with a roll of his eyes. “If I thought you’d answer honestly I’d ask you where he gets them, but I have a feeling you’d just give me bullshit.”

In response, Billy just shrugs and looks away.

“Right, thought so.” The police chief sighs again, “At least tell me how often he gets you a new bottle. Once a month? Every other month?”

Billy stares down at his lap, picking at the skin around his nails. “I don’t know who you’re talking about. The pills are mine, remember?” 

The chief sighs and tries again, rephrasing. “Alright, how often do _you_ get a new bottle then?”

Figuring that much at least is harmless to tell the man Billy sighs and answers, “Once a month.”

“You know where they come from?” The man gives him a long look as Billy frowns severely and doesn’t answer. “You don’t know, do you? Thought they were _your_ pills? What, did they just _show up_ in your drawer one day, like magic?”

Billy glares at him then, “What does it matter where I got them? In the end, no one’s gonna care about anything but the fact that _I_ have them.” 

“I care.” The chief says sharply, and Billy’s a little startled at the undercurrent of anger in his voice. “I care because those pills are in _my_ town, and if one person has them then other people do too.”

Billy feels a shiver of something like guilt in his stomach then, but it’s easily stomped down. “So? If some Sub wants to be a Dom then why the fuck do you care? It’s not your fault if they take too many and go nuts.”

“You…” The Dom gives him a look like he has two heads then, and Billy scowls. “Don’t you know what this shit does? It’s _illegal_ for a _reason_.”

“Not in every state it isn't.” Billy responds, but it’s a weak argument and he knows it. 

“Because some people are _idiots._ Idiots that think it’s possible to switch your dynamic through extensive ‘conversion therapy’ and the right dosage of pills.” The chief says with a disgusted sneer that puts Billy on edge. “They like to sweep the worst of the side effects under the rug, blame it on overdoses, but that shit won’t fly here. We’ve seen the worst of what those things do, and like hell will I let it run rampant in my town.”

Billy, of course, knows what he’s referring to, at least in an abstract sense. He’s seen the newsreels as much as anyone, the PSA’s in school about the slippery slope of drugs and such. Still, those sorts of ‘drugs’ were different than what Billy took, and there was also the fact that he wasn’t stupid enough to overdose on them and go into a psychotic episode. His dad had always made sure he had the 'good stuff,’ the kind that is regulated without any of the extra fillers that make the users on the news go nuts. 

_“The government tries to make us think anything that makes us stronger is bad for us, Billy, don’t you see? They want us all to be sheep. They don’t want us to see the truth right before our noses, so they lie and they make Stim’s illegal, touting about a few case studies of people who took pills and went nuts. But how do we really know it was Stim’s that made them go crazy, hm? We don’t, Billy. That’s the thing. They probably cut them with who knows what other drugs. But these...these are the good stuff. Trust me, son.”_

Billy knows this. His father has told him this a thousand times. He knows and yet—

_He’s just trying to do right by me. The world is a shitty place to live in if you’re a Sub. He’s just trying to—_

“Mandastims aren’t like the shitty half bakes Stim’s they sell illegally on the streets, they’re—” Billy grits his teeth, “They’re not the same thing that makes all those people go crazy.”

“They _are_ all the same,” Hopper says. “All of them. Which is exactly why they are _all_ illegal in Indiana, and California, and a dozen other states. They’re the same drug under different names. Just because Mandastims are legal in _Alabama_ doesn’t mean _shit_. Eventually, those things will kill you...or fuck your brain up so much you won’t even know your own name anymore.”

 _No. No they’re different._ Billy shakes his head. _My dad may be an asshole but he wouldn’t…_

“I don’t know what you’re dad has told you about those pills but—”

“Would you stop with the shit about my dad?” Billy feels near frantic now with the need to shut the man up. 

“Well, I might shut about him if you would agree to testify against him.” The chief offers a pointed look that sets Billy’s nerves on edge.

 _Like hell,_ He can’t help but bark a laugh. _He’d fucking kill me before he let that happen._

“Yeah right.” Billy grits out under his breath, half-hoping his antagonistic tone of voice will set the other man off and half hoping he didn’t hear him at all. “Honestly didn’t take you for the naive type, chief.”

Surprisingly the older man doesn’t take offense to his tone and get angry like Billy expected. Instead, he just looks sad. “I’m not, kid. This’d all be a hell of a lot easier if I was.”

“I’m not testifying against nobody,” Billy says with emphasis, hoping to make his point well enough that the chief leaves it alone. “So you can give up on whatever plan you have to get me to snitch or whatever.”

The chief of police sighs and rubs at his face. 

“Sure kid, alright.” Hopper says with a shake of his head. “But a deal is a deal. No more taking those pills, and you give me every new bottle that you get _when_ you get it. And if you can figure out where he—sorry, _you—_ get them, even better. Got it?”

He looks at the chief of police for a long moment, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for the man to take back his help now that Billy’s made it clear he won’t be part of whatever scheme he has against his father. Waiting, as the silence stretches and stretches and Hopper just continues to stare at him. Then clears his throat, deliberates his next words carefully, feeling off-balance and unsure. “...alright, I got it.”

“Right then,” Hopper says wearily, “The last thing we have to do is get our stories straight here on what happened last night.”

Hopper gives him the general outline of what the story is then, most of it lies with just the right amount of truth mixed in, and Billy finds it’s easy enough to remember and regurgitate thankfully. 

Billy Hargrove is admitted to Hawkin’s General at the same time as Steve Harrington, but only Billy will be released within the week. Steve will go back to school next Monday with fading bruises and a scar peeking out of his hairline, Billy will go back on Wednesday without a scratch on him. It’s not hard to see how the rumors will spread that they’d gotten into a…disagreement, one which Billy had won.

The King and the usurper, that's how the school will see them, and Billy won't say anything to make them think otherwise. This part isn’t anything the cop tells him to do, Billy just knows that he’ll need his reputation now more than ever and a fight won against the previous Top Dom of Hawkins High can only help.

Hopper tells him he’d brought back Max last night and explained the situation to his father and Susan in the least incriminating way possible. The story was that Max had gone to his place to see his daughter, ‘Jane’ apparently, but they’d fallen asleep and Hopper hadn’t wanted to wake them. And, oh, of course, if he’d _known_ that Max hadn’t told anyone where she was going he would’ve called and let them know right away! 

The chief tells him they were very understanding. Billy rolls his eyes at this because of course Neil and Susan would eat that shit up from the fucking chief of police of all people. They both had such a hard-on for ‘respectable’ figures of authority that he’s surprised they didn’t orgasm right then and there to find out Max was friends with his kid. 

So Max gets off easy as usual, Neil only moderately annoyed she’d disobeyed and snuck out and Susan just happy she's safe and sound. Obviously, Hopper wasn't there for her punishment but he tells Billy that he'd heard her complaining about being grounded when he'd checked in on her that morning before heading to the hospital. 

“Why the hell are you checking up on her?” Billy asks with a wary look. The whole situation at the Byers had seemed creepy as hell to him, what with the drawings and Steve being there alone with a bunch of kids and the fucking...whatever it was he’d seen. 

“There’s a lot of shit you don’t know about, kid.” Hopper answers without blinking. “Let’s keep it that way, hm?”

Billy eye’s him for a second. “…fridge stuff?”

Hopper nods. “Fridge stuff.”

"Right, I don’t want to know.” Billy groans without humor, because yeah, he’s got enough to deal with, and he really doesn't want to deal with the extra hassle of whatever government conspiracy this shitty town was involved in. “Though you still haven’t gotten to my part of the story yet, chief."

Hopper continues on, telling him that before he’d left the Hargrove house Neil had asked him if he’d seen Billy, and his eyebrows go up, surprised he’d cared enough to ask. This is, of course, where Billy comes in…because Hopper obviously _had_ seen Billy—at that point he’d just gotten back from taking him to the hospital. 

“I told your father I got a call about an...altercation at the Byers household. When I arrived I found you, apparently gone out looking for your sister—”

“Not my sister.” Billy interrupts abruptly and Hopper rolls his eyes and waves a hand. 

“Right, whatever, step-sister. Anyways. You didn’t find her, because you found Steve Harrington first, who was babysitting while Joyce was out of the house. Both of you were found knocked unconscious on arrival.” Hopper continues, “Officially the hospital says they found trace amounts of psychedelics in your blood work that caused your hospitalization. It’s not uncommon for Mandastim to come up looking like psychedelics on tests so it ain’t far from the truth anyway.”

Billy huffs a strange sound. Half relieved, half disbelieving. Not for the first time since waking up he looks at Hopper, and wonders, _why the hell is this guy helping me? Why the hell does he really care? I already told him I can't help him put my dad in fucking jail._

He’s too afraid to ask the question out loud, lest it pushes the man to change his mind.

“So, you got all that kid?”

“Yeah.” Billy mumbles simply. “Ran into Harrington babysitting like a dork, beat him up, passed out, didn’t see any crazy fridge aliens, went to the hospital, got in shit for taking drugs. Kinda funny there’s only one lie in that whole spiel really.”

“The best lies are as close to the truth as possible.” Hopper gives a long deep sigh through his nose, one that reminds Billy very much of Neil when he’s trying not to hit Billy in front of Susan. 

After the chief of police finally leaves, a doctor comes in and they share a strange look as they pass one another in the door. It’s a woman, surprisingly, middle-aged and with a collar around her neck that signifies her as someone’s Sub, but no ring on her finger that says _married,_ which all but puts a sign on her forehead that says NOT A LOCAL. 

Billy actually has to do a double-take when he sees her, and his first thought is _no way is this chick from around here_. The woman introduces herself as “Doctor Blackwell” and has a vaguely New York sounding accent, all city thick and fast. 

“You don’t seem the type to live in Hawkins, Indiana…” Billy says with an easy smile and half-lidded eyes. It’s instinct to throw on the act, the same one he uses on all the girls at school—and sometimes even on their hot moms. The doctor only gives him a vaguely annoyed look.

“And you don’t seem the type to secretly be a Submissive, Mr. Hargroves.” She says with a click of her tongue that instantly raises Billy’s hackles. His smile transitions quickly into a hard-clenched jaw, and he picks a spot on the wall to stare at as she comes closer to him and checks his IV. He only looks at her when she finally sits beside his knee on the bed with a heavy sigh.

“I am sorry, that was inappropriate of me. It’s just that I’ve heard that exact comment one too many times today.” She says with a self-deprecating smile. “You are right though. I’m not the type to live here…I worked at the lab, before it...Well. I’m rather looking forward to leaving and returning home to New York now that it seems that job has...fallen through. Hawkin's particular brand of excitement is not to my taste's I'm afraid.”

Billy gives a tight-lipped smile. “Yeah, well, at least you _can_ leave.”

They share a long look full of mutual understanding, one that Billy is a little embarrassed to think is kinda nice. It’s been a long time since he’s talked to anyone who actually knew he was a Sub and didn’t judge him for it, the chief of police notwithstanding. Doctor Blackwell looks away first and down to his chart that she’s holding.

“How long have you been taking these Mr. Hargrove?” She asks finally, and Billy frowns thoughtfully.

“Dunno. Couple years. Since I was fifteen.”

She looks sad when he says that and Billy scowls. “And you’ve been in Hawkin’s for a month, correct? Did you bring your pills with you or did you get them in Hawkins when you arrived?”

“Uh...I had them before we came here.” Billy says, vaguely confused on what it matters. "I’d stopped taking them for a while, before coming here, so I had more than enough to get me through the month..."

He frowns a bit, anger stealing his jaw as unwelcome memories overwhelm him. _John. A hopeful smile. Pills dumped down the toilet. A stolen collar. Max. Susan crying. Neil. The stink of burning leather._ Everything that’d happened back in Cali to lead him here. He shakes the memories from his mind, head aching, then he looks at her suspiciously, remembering her shared look with chief Hopper.

“Look, I already told the big guy out there that I don’t know where the pills came from alright? My...someone else got them for me. I don’t know where from.”

If possible her eyes soften even more and it makes Billy want to yell something awful at her if only to get her to stop looking at him like that. “I understand Mr. Hargrove. That's not why I'm asking.”

"...Then, why?" He asks with a sinking stomach.

The doctor's gaze darts briefly to the door then, looking distinctly uncomfortable. "It's...nothing. Just be sure, if you find yourself with more pills, that you don't take them. It's likely they wouldn't be Mandastims."

Before Billy can push more on the subject, the doctor seems to shake the discomfort from her shoulders and smiles at him tightly. "Either way, you’ve done quite the number on yourself Mr. Hargroves—” 

“It’s Billy.” He interrupts suddenly. Mr. Hargrove is his father, not him, and it rankles to hear.

“...Billy. If I had my way you’d stay in the hospital for a week under strict observation but I’ve been told that’s not an option by your father…he's already asked for release papers to sign.” She says with a frown.

"My father?" Billy croaks, "He's already here?"

"Yes. Down in the lobby." She sighs and looks him straight in the eye. Billy looks right back, unblinking. “Do you understand what taking these pills could do—no, _have_ been doing to you, Billy?”

Billy shifts in discomfort, breaking their eye contact. “They let me use my Command. Make me not a Sub anymore or whatever.”

 _“They do no such thing.”_ The doctor says with such vehemence that it actually startles Billy. “No one can change their designation, Billy, not really. No matter what your—no matter what _anyone_ says.”

Billy simply shrugs. “Well...it worked when I needed it to.”

The doctor shakes her head, and he narrows his eyes at her as she mumbles something angrily under her breath before suddenly deflating. “I wanted to ease into this, but considering our time constraints I'm going to have to be rather more frank with you I'm afraid. Billy. Those pills are causing your brain to show signs of early-onset _dementia_. Do you know what dementia is?”

“I guess? My…my grandfather had it…” He says hesitantly. “It’s some kinda brain disease…makes it hard to think and remember—“

“Sometimes it’s just the memory, sometimes it’s emotional instability, sometimes it’s just a general decreased ability to function.” She says and then reaches into the folder she has on her lap and takes out a picture of two side-by-side brain cross-sections.

“This here is a healthy brain…" She says, pointing at each as she speaks. "...and this is one with dementia.” 

She pushes the pictures into Billy’s reluctant hands and waits as he looks over them. He swallows hard as his eyes trace over the one with dementia, obviously shrunken and wrong looking even to his uneducated eyes.

“Those pills you take are designed to change the way the brain's cells communicate with one another as well as increase the production of the chemicals that stimulate and control the Potencium...essentially forcing it to decrease activity to the areas that receive Commands, and increase activity and sensitives of the area that creates them." She says, causing Billy's head to spin. "However...this change is not permanent, and in fact, the change has been proven to revert to pre-Stim function within a day of quitting. There's also substantial proof that Stims contribute to the causal pathway that leads to the development of cognitive impairment, increased grey matter in the brain, and an increase in the number of damaged brain cells when used regularly for extended periods of time, essentially causing early-onset dementia."

"S-studies?" Billy murmurs, swallowing thickly. "Well then...why is it...I mean it can't be for..."

Thankfully, the doctor seems to understand his broken rambling, and sighs, "Unfortunately, there is plenty of studies out there with differing results...but of course those studies come out of the very same corporations that create the drugs in the first place. Some states recognize the truth, or otherwise declare it's not worth the risk, and some...feel differently. There are various agencies and doctors out there that are pushing for banning by the FDA, but it's a slow process so far."

Billy just stared at her, dumbfounded and feeling vaguely floaty, like the rug had been pulled out from under him—or the bed, in this case.

"Indiana is one such state that recognizes the danger of Stims, hence why Mandastim’s, or any other Stims, are _illegal_ here, where such studies are recognized . If you continue to use those pills…you could very well run the risk of irreversible damage to your brain, do you understand? This needs to stop _now._ ”

His hands fist in the sheets as he shoves the pictures towards the doctor. He’d known the pills weren’t good for him from the start but…he’d always assumed the headaches and nausea and dizzy spells were just temporary issues. He’d heard the stories too, of people going crazy after taking too many, overdosing and shit...but he’d thought as long as he was careful not to take too many that he’d be fine. He hadn’t ever thought that the effects of the pills could be so…lasting.

Billy can’t help but wonder if Neil had known the side effects of the pills…if he’d known all of the Stim's had such side effects and just not cared or if he really believed Mandastims were different...either way, did it make a difference? It was still a lie. All a damn fucking lie. Billy would never stop being a Sub, and the realization brought with it a strange mix of relief and despair.

“I…I already agreed to stop taking the damn things, there’s no need for this fucking intervention shit.” Billy finally grits out while blinking rapidly. He clears his throat. “Just tell me what I have to do to…I don’t know, reverse it or stop it or whatever.”

Doctor Blackwell sighs. “It's rather simple really, you get rid of the bad stuff and allow your body time to recover naturally. We just need you to stop taking the pills and detox your body and brain from it slowly—I suggest a strict regimen of subspace at least once a week and—“

“Whoa, whoa— _what?”_ Billy laughs. “Uh—yeah, no, that. That isn’t happening.”

The doctor gives him an unimpressed look, “Billy, this isn't just going to go away. The Potencium is incredibly important to the functioning of your brain and is integral to regulating the—“

“Look! I don’t give a shit about any of your medical mumbo jumbo, I’m telling you _it’s not happening._ ” Billy says, matter of factly. He’s tired at this point, and honestly, a little fed up with being talked to like he’s a child. “Why the fuck do you think I was taking those pills in the first place? Are you just stupid enough to think I took them for _fun?_ There is _no one_ that can get me into subspace. _End of story._ ”

He can see the woman’s shoulders slowly slump in the corner of his vision, and he actually hates how he likes the fact he’s made her feel bad. Doctor Blackwell fiddles with the chart in her hands, looking for the first time unsure of herself.

“Well, I know the situation is complicated, but that man outside, Chief Hopper, he’s a Dom and seeing as he understands the situation, perhaps—“

“Holy je~sus, no.” Billy says as he rubs his face almost violently, the very idea making him shudder.

The doctor gives him a plaintive look, “Subspace does _not_ have to be sexual, Mr. Hargroves, you must know that, plenty of parents send their children into subspace once they present and begin to require it—”

“I—yeah I get it alright?" Billy shivers in horror at the idea of his own father doing such a thing. The one time he'd gone into subspace by accident around the man had been a nightmare in itself. "The answer is still no. _Fuck._ Isn’t there some other way?”

She sighs, “The short answer is _yes_ but…it’s not ideal, and not what I would recommend as a general rule. The best I can do is prescribe you a medication we often give to Sub’s who are…well, in positions where they can’t be placed into subspace for medical or trauma reasons. But there's side effects, and it won't be comfortable.”

"I'll take it." Billy says immediately.

Dr. Blackwell takes out a notepad slowly and jots something down in a quick scribble, handing it to Billy reluctantly. Billy can’t make out a single word on the paper and he smirks a bit.

“Nice handwriting.” He mutters before he can help himself and the doctor gives a chuff of a laugh.

“What, were you expecting pretty little hearts over the ‘i’s’ and curly-q’s?” She says dryly. “I’m a woman, yes, and a Sub, yes...but I’m a doctor too Mr. Hargroves. There’s nothing wrong with being a Sub, and I’m certainly not ashamed of it, but we are all more than our sex and designation. You’d do well to remember that.”

Billy can’t meet her eyes suddenly. He feels strangely overcome being in the same room as this...capable, intelligent Sub, so obviously everything his father has always said Subs can’t be. 

_No. Shouldn’t be. He would say they shouldn't be._ He thinks with a rueful twist of his mouth.

He flips the prescription over, blinking when he sees a much more legible row of numbers. “What’s this? You’re number?”

“Yes.” She says and when Billy gives her his smuggest, smarmiest, smile she rolls her eyes. “None of that now, you. It’s for emergencies only, in case there are issues with the medication. I'm leaving for New York next week, and I know with your _situation_ you would be hesitant to seek medical help in the traditional way so I decided it'd be best to give you my number in case of adverse side effects with those pills. ”

Billy scoffs. _Hesitant_ is an understatement.

"Why are there two?" He asks.

"The second one is my colleague. A Dr. Owens. He's...indisposed at the moment, but making a recovery." She says with a frown. "But he'll be closer than me in an emergency, since he's staying in Indiana. He's the one who has helped keep this situation...quiet."

 _Like hell am I calling some random guy,_ Billy thinks with a roll of his eyes. _Even if he did help shove this shit under the rug. After all, who knows what else he's covered up._

“That slip of paper has one refill order. Give it to Hopper when you run out of these and he’ll take care of it. One bottle should last you a month.” She says as she pulls a little bottle of pills out of her pocket and places it in Billy’s hands. He tilts the bottle, eyebrows raising at just how similar they look to his ‘normal’ pills. Round and red, only instead of little ‘M’ imprinted on it there’s a bunch of little numbers he can’t make out.

“The medication in that bottle will make the transition easier on you at least...take one every day, but no more than that.” The doctor says quietly, seemingly aware of Billy’s overwhelmed mindstate. “But I still suggest you find someone to put you into subspace if you can. Taking just the pills will make the process of getting you back to normal much longer and much more painful than it needs to be and—“

“That’s fine,” Billy says in a low voice and full of gravel. “I’m used to pain. Can I go now?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, hope I did the medical stuff justice and it wasn't too boring/absolutely ridiculous. 
> 
> Let me know what you guys think! Did you like Hopper and Billy's talk? Did you like Dr. Blackwell? Do you think she's hiding something? ;) Her spot in the story was going to be Dr. Owens, but then I realized after rewatching S2's ending that he was badly wounded that night, so I replaced him with Dr. Blackwell, who is an OC colleague of his. I kinda like her a lot too, because she can 'ruin' the stereotypes that his father has put in his head, about women/subs not being able to be in positions of power etc. She's not going to be a major character though, really just minor involvement. There will be one Oc that will have a major part though, who I'm really excited about. Sorry to those you don't like OC's, hopefully I can change your mind :)

**Author's Note:**

> Was the pseudo-science weird? Lol idk I found it fun to write utter science-fiction nonsense into a D/S AU because hey, why not. Hopefully it explained things well.
> 
> Let me know what you thought! Comments, questions, concerns? XD Next chapter probably Friday or Saturday.


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